


Design Paradigm

by did_you_reboot



Series: Flotsam [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Post-Deathly Hallows, Post-Deathly Hallows AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-04-05
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/did_you_reboot/pseuds/did_you_reboot
Summary: It comes to light that the Unspeakable Hermione Granger's research—the very research that deposited her on an unsuspecting Severus Snape's doorstep in Hawaii—could be used to give and take magical power, and she finds herself hunted by a mystery group trying to finish her for good. Fortunately, she's got Severus Snape and new friends in tow, and together they'll make an adventure out of their predicament yet. Or die trying. Whether she likes it or not. Post-DH AU. Sequel to Flotsam.





	1. The Phoenix's Debut

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so here's the sequel to Flotsam! It was originally posted on FF.net and nearly abandoned because I was not in a good state to be writing anything. But I've started up again and hopefully can finish this mofo. Old author notes will be preserved in the existing chapters.
> 
> Fair warning: I feel like I'm approaching crack fic levels of fic here. Plus a lot of the older chapters (the first 5 or so) need a bunch of editing, but ain't nobody got time for that right now, I'll get to it when I get to it DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO
> 
> If you're here because you read Flotsam, then thank you for sticking around! Hope you enjoy this one as well. :)

**First: The Phoenix's Debut  
**

"Are you really going to wear that shirt?"

"Why not?"

"It's pink!"

"A real man is secure in his masculinity even when wearing the color pink."

"It's not you I'm worried about. It's them! Their minds are likely to collapse seeing you like that."

"That may or may not be the effect I am aiming for."

"You may as well dance for them while you're at it."

"A good idea. I have been practicing."

Hermione feigned exasperation, but let out a small laugh at the sight of Severus Snape carefully tying a Windsor knot into his black necktie. He was currently wearing the pink shirt in question, a Muggle dress shirt he had transfigured out of the plain t-shirt he'd worn to Britain. It sounded like he resolved to do everything in his power to fuck over the minds of the people they would be joining for dinner tonight: namely, the Weasleys and Potters. Because to the uninformed, Severus Snape was still the snarky, greasy git that had worked in the shadows to ensure a victory against Lord Voldemort, and was also a dead man they had buried ten years ago.

But Severus Snape was neither dead nor buried, and in fact had never felt better in his life.

There were two reasons for that: first, the combined efforts of Hermione Granger and himself had purged, via potion, the lingering venom of Nagini that was ripping his internal organs into a blood pulp. Second, he finally got himself a nice girl who actually rather reciprocated his feelings.

Hermione desperately hoped that the Weasleys' skulls wouldn't explode if she turned up with Severus Snape on her arm.

Harry and Ron were aware, of course—they had visited her while she was stranded and recovering in Hawaii from a portkey accident—but they kept quiet to respect Severus's wish to remain hidden from public view. He had taken up residence on a small island in Hawaii, and it was there that Hermione was pulled to when her portkey experiment in the Department of Mysteries went awry. She hadn't meant to go there, really, but she had a passing thought about Professor Snape as she was floating in portkey limbo and found that the portkey picked up on it and deposited her on his doorstep. Well, it actually missed his doorstep by about five hundred feet; she ended up flailing about in the ocean and fortunately washed up on his beach before she drowned.

She had been quite surprised by how amicable he had become over the years. The furious, bitter man she had grown to know in the classroom was gone—dead, as he told her—and was replaced by a man with a droll sense of humor and a penchant for sarcasm. Hermione had been stranded there: her body did not agree with the portkey accident and she was put in considerable pain every time she was around magic or used it, and was fortunate that Hawaii had low enough residual magic in the air that she could recover comfortably. She and Severus had gotten along well enough while she was there. He was very accommodating and mostly left her to her own devices while doing peculiar things that took a while to get used to, like going surfing or diving for seaweed.

And so here they were in her flat, getting ready to go to the Burrow. They went to hide there after he came to the War Memorial commemoration to tell her that he was—in the immutable words of his friend, Danny Takahashi—a fucking retard for letting her go home and spurning the connection the both of them felt between each other. Because, it so seemed, they had grown quite close during her time in Hawaii. _Quite_ close, though the both of them had danced around the issue until the absolute last moment.

Funny how things worked out.

He had showed up at the Memorial ceremony using the last of his Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as Danny and confess to her that he would like to give a relationship a go. Unfortunately for him, he only had about an hour's worth of Polyjuice and it had worn off right when the photographers were growing bored and wanted something interesting to take a photo of. What could be more interesting than the great Hermione Granger's new beau, whomever it might be? She was sure that they didn't get a good photo of Severus's face, thanks to Professor McGonagall swooping in and distracting the photographers long enough for them to leave Hogwarts grounds. They spent the rest of the afternoon in her London flat, merely holding each other close on her worn sofa as though it had been ages and ages since they last touched. A profound feeling of relief had overcome her on that sofa, much like the feeling of finally pulling out a splinter that had been stuck under the skin for quite a bit longer than it should have.

Severus agreed to go to the Burrow with her, for which she was grateful. Their flight from the Hogwarts grounds had probably been very visible, so it was likely that the Weasleys would have a lot of questions for her. It would be less stressful to just present Severus to them and let things go from there. Not that she forced him to come, of course. He seemed intrigued by the idea, in any case, and had gleefully—in as much as Severus Snape could look gleeful (which amounted to little more than a smirk)—transfigured his shirt to be that lovely shade of flower pink. He looked rather smart in the dress shirt and black slacks, regardless of the pinkness. Hermione herself hadn't spent too much time on her own clothes—she threw on some auburn pants and a loose blouse and called it a day.

"Well, shall we?" she said brightly once she'd pulled on her boots and jacket and Severus had pulled on his coat. She held out a tin of Floo powder to him as he nodded, and took a pinch of the stuff herself. Throwing the powder into her roaring fireplace, she stepped in as the flames turned green, crying out, "The Burrow!"

Hermione stepped out of the Burrow's fireplace jumped in surprise when something exploded in front of her.

"Aunt 'Mione's here!" exclaimed James Potter as fragments of Exploding Snap cards drifted down to the floor. He dashed into the kitchen, screaming at the top of his lungs, as Teddy Lupin and Victoire leapt to their feet to give her a hug.

"Hello, Teddy, Victoire," Hermione said, smiling as they embraced.

"About time, Hermione. Been waiting a while," said Ron, whom she just noticed was sitting in a threadbare armchair by the fire. Apparently, he'd been playing Exploding Snap with the children while waiting for her. "We were wondering when you'd show up. Dinner's just about to start outside."

"Sorry, lost track of the time. And I, er, have a guest coming," said Hermione hesitantly, giving him a meaningful look that she hoped he would understand. His face seemed to brighten in comprehension.

"A friend? All right, come outside when he gets here," he said, grinning as he got to his feet and began ushering Teddy and Victoire out. "Come on, come on, let's go outside. _Oh, I can't wait to see this_ …"

Just as he left the room, the fireplace behind her blazed into life and out stepped Severus. He peered around at the empty room and gave her a curious look. "Where is everyone?" he asked.

"They're waiting outside. I suppose there isn't enough room to eat inside, what with all the people. Are you ready?"

"Oh yes."

With a smile, she led him out to the kitchen, where they both paused to furtively peer out the window at the guests outside. With all the Weasleys and their families were present, it seemed like a veritable mob that they'd be walking into. Hermione glanced at Severus silently, and he nodded.

She pushed the back door open stepped onto the lawn, waving at those that had noticed her entrance. "Hermione!" said Molly, immediately hurrying over to her and giving her an awkward hug because of the water pitcher she was holding.

"Hello, everyone!" Hermione said cheerfully as the door creaked open behind her.

Molly let out a small shriek of fright and dropped her pitcher as Severus stepped outside behind Hermione. There was the tinkling of a breaking glass from somewhere by the tables. Everyone had grown deathly silent, even the children who should have had no reason to do so.

" _Merlin's beard_ —he's alive!" came Arthur's voice.

But Arthur, it seemed, was the only one who could find his voice. Everyone else, from Harry and Ron who were struggling not to burst into laughter to the utterly speechless Molly Weasley, was absolutely silent. For good reason, it seemed; Hermione glanced back at Severus and found that he was giving them his best Professor Snape glare.

"Stop that. You're scaring them," she muttered, frowning at him and prodding his arm. While Severus seemed as calm as could be, _she_ was actually starting to feel a little nervous. He'd been an all-around unpopular person, even more so as Headmaster Snape, and was the one who took Albus Dumbledore's life. Harry had, of course, long since cleared up a lot of things regarding Severus's behavior and motives, but old habits do die hard, she supposed.

He continued glaring for a moment longer, before he could hold it in no longer and threw his head back and laughed.

Which, of course, Hermione knew was probably just frightening for the poor audience of Weasleys and guests.

Thankfully, Ron got up from his seat and walked over toward them, picking up the water pitcher as he did so. "Good evening, Professor Snape, and thanks for dropping by," he said amiably. "I'd like to thank you for taking such good care of Hermione while she was ill."

Smooth, Ron.

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Weasley," Severus graciously said with a smile as a ripple of murmurs spread throughout the people before them.

"I'm sorry for bringing someone with me so suddenly, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said apologetically to Molly, clearing her throat. Molly shook her head in an attempt to tell her that it was no problem, her mouth hanging open in shock.

" _He's_ who you were running off with earlier today!" Ginny suddenly exclaimed in realization. "After Professor McGonagall chased those photographers away from you!"

These were the magic words that broke the silence binding everyone's tongues. Immediately, they all started chattering at each other at this news. Molly finally sprang into action, quickly ushering the both of them toward the empty seats at Harry's table as their voices filled the air.

"Come now, you two, you can sit over here…"

"What the ruddy hell—"

"But Harry said the snake ripped his throat out!"

"All right, Professor!"

"Mummy, who's that man?"

"Aunt 'Mione, is that your boyfriend?"

Suddenly, silence.

All eyes were turned on her expectantly, and she felt her face beginning to burn red as she looked upon James Potter's innocent little face. The little bugger knew what he was doing, she was sure of it.

"Yyyyyyeesss…?" she said hesitantly. She peered at Severus, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly, and he gave her a smile. "Yes," she said, more firmly and matter-of-factly this time. Her heart seemed to flutter a bit at the thought.

Everyone burst into talk again, and their faces were a mixture of amusement, shock, and disgust. She tried not to laugh at Lavender's horrified face, but couldn't hold in her laughter when George got to his feet and thumped Severus on the back, congratulating him. For the first time, Severus looked uneasy, maybe a little horrified, even—Hermione supposed that he felt a little awkward being congratulated by a man he'd accidentally cursed an ear off of. Molly was visibly delighted and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek before going on about how sweet it was.

All in all, it was really very bizarre. Hermione had expected significantly more indignation and more horror and _less_ of these enthusiastic congratulations or delighted grins. She suspected that it put the rest of the family at ease to see Harry and Ron so cheerful about the whole thing, but she wasn't sure if it was helping or harming things that Severus was smiling cordially at everyone. It was rather funny how Lavender looked so uneasy and kept shooting Ron anxious looks, as though she expected Severus to suddenly look to her and berate her about a failed potion. He said exactly three words to her ("Hello, Miss Brown.") and was largely ignoring her as he talked with the others at the table. Once the food was brought out, however, things progressed in the manner that Hermione had first expected. There was a bit of tension in the air; while there was a lot of talking and laughing, they had the air of people trying to act normal while locked in the same room as a rabid wolf chained to the wall with a rusty padlock. They also seemed truly mystified at the sight of him in a pink dress shirt: Hermione heard Bill muttering to Arthur, wondering if maybe they were having some sort of group hallucination.

It was almost a relief when they finished eating, since everyone's minds were slightly addled by the food, which in turn made everything a great deal less tense. It did seem, however, that Ginny had one more thing to settle before she could relax and moved her chair to sit beside Hermione, little baby Lily fast asleep in her arms. "Why didn't you or Harry _tell_ me?" Ginny hissed. If Hermione wasn't mistaken, she looked a little hurt. "I could've kept a secret, you know."

"I'm sorry…I didn't want it to get too public that he was alive," Hermione murmured.

"So…he's all right, then? After…after everything?" said Ginny. Hermione could hear a little suspicion and mistrust in her voice; obviously, it wasn't Severus's wellbeing that she was referring to.

"Yes, surprisingly," said Hermione. She gave a sidelong glance at Severus, who, at the bequest of Ron, was showing James the maid café trick with the water from James's glass. Satisfied that he wouldn't hear her, Hermione leaned close to Ginny and lowered her voice. "He has nightmares all the time," she whispered. "About Harry's parents…Dumbledore…everyone at the school while he was headmaster…"

It seemed to have the sobering effect on Ginny that she hoped for. "I see," Ginny said quietly. She looked at Severus—whom James was begging to do the trick again—as though evaluating the truth of Hermione's words.

"I wouldn't lie about something like this, Ginny."

Ginny stared at her for a long moment, before letting out a sigh of submission. "You're right. Sorry." Her face changed into a mischievous curiosity with rather startling speed. "So…did you get him to wear that pink shirt? Got him wrapped around your finger, have you?"

Hermione was momentarily nonplussed, and it took her a moment to answer. "No, no, he _wanted_ to wear that shirt. I tried to talk him out of it because I thought it'd scare everyone."

"You were right about that," said Ginny with a grimace.

"You know, when I woke up after the portkey accident, he was wearing shorts and a penguin shirt," Hermione laughed, watching as Lily stirred in Ginny's arms. "I thought I was dead. He laughed at me."

The tension between Hermione and Ginny seemed to slowly boil away and they fell back into familiar territory: they talked about work, Hermione about the arrogant prats at the Department of Mysteries and Ginny about the arrogant prats in the sports department of the _Daily Prophet,_ and then both laughed at the arrogant prat-like behavior that Percy regained once the wounds of the war healed a bit. They continued on like this for quite some time, until Lily woke up and promptly began crying.

"Shh, Lily dear, I know you're hungry," Ginny said softly, getting to her feet. "I'll be back down as soon as I get her fed, Hermione."

"You know, why don't you all put the kids up to bed so we can have a _talk?_ " Arthur suggested, looking at his brood over his glasses.

His meaning was clear. There was a murmur of assent, and immediately Ginny and Fleur began herding all the children inside—much to James's dismay, as he seemed to have taken a liking to Severus. Ginny would return once she was finished, but it was likely that Fleur would elect to stay with the kids: Fleur disliked heavy discussions, and since she had minimal dealings with Severus, she probably wasn't interested. As the children sulkily went inside, Hermione suddenly found everyone migrating to her table—she felt surrounded, like they were trying to pen her in to keep her from getting up (not that she had moved). Everyone was silent, an unspoken agreement to withhold the relevant conversation until Ginny finished feeding Lily, so instead they talked about Quidditch and if everyone saw that ludicrous display last night.

When Ginny returned and sidled into a seat beside Harry, Arthur straightened his glasses and looked to Severus, who seemed impassive and wholly unbothered by the whole thing.

"I need to ask, Severus: how in Merlin's name are you still alive? We were all told that Voldemort's snake bit you in the neck."

"Indeed she did," said Severus. He pulled his tie loose and pulled his collar down to show them the ugly scars from Nagini's bite, and everyone at the table breathed in sharply. "I created a combination of blood-replenishing and blood-coagulating potion and took it shortly before I met with the Dark Lord. I was fortunate, I suppose, that he decided to set the snake on me rather than kill me himself. Nonetheless, I went in there expecting to be very dead."

"Then who did we bury?" said Bill, looking uncharacteristically baffled.

"Honestly," said Severus, frowning, "nobody bothered to open the casket to make sure anything was inside? Minerva's doing, I suppose."

"She knows you're alive?" said Arthur. He looked indignant.

"Minerva is the one who saved me, in fact. She hid me in her chambers at the castle until the wounds closed properly. To be honest, I was rather surprised she didn't just let me die. She was angry enough at me when I regained consciousness, but wouldn't let me die…I expect it had something to do with Potter's moving words. _Yes_ , Potter, she told me everything you said." Harry gave a nervous laugh.

The way he was speaking so nonchalantly about expecting to die seemed to be making everyone a little uncomfortable, and it was a few moments before anyone else spoke.

"Then what have you been doing all this time? It's been, what, ten years?" Molly piped up, giving him that worried motherly look she got when listening to stories such as this.

"I spent a year in Japan. I wandered around, I suppose," said Severus, and Hermione inwardly grimaced. It was odd now to hear him speak of the place so casually after learning about his attempt at dying in the Aokigahara Forest.

"Only a year? But where have you been since?"

He paused for a moment, as though contemplating his answer, before smiling. "I've been living in Hawaii."

_Pffffffftttblll._

The whole water-choking thing really was quite hilarious now that Hermione was not the unfortunate victim. Somehow he'd managed to time his words so that at least three people were taking a drink of water or whiskey or whatever else while he was speaking. Where the hell did he learn how to do that?

"So Hermione here has a portkey accident that sends her to Hawaii? A bit too convenient if you ask me," said George, grinning.

"Minerva visits me there every so often," Severus added. "She's rather fond of coconut juice. Would you like to try some?"

Without waiting for an answer, he rummaged in his pants pocket and pulled out a tiny coconut, which he enlarged with a wave of his wand. Hermione looked at him in disbelief.

"Why do you have a coconut in your pocket?" she sputtered as he duplicated it. He smirked, using his wand to split a hole into one.

"It would be better to ask, Hermione, why I _shouldn't_ have a coconut in my pocket."

Everyone was stunned into silence as Severus innocently (or not so much, Hermione thought) continued splitting holes into coconuts. Then suddenly Harry and Ron and George roared with laughter, and the rest of the Weasley family followed shortly (while Lavender was left looking a little bewildered).

"Bloody hell, Professor Snape's got a sense of humor!"

* * *

" _To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Conrad?"_

" _Oh, drop the formalities, Rene. We're all friends here."_

" _So what is it you've come all this way for?"_

" _I just wanted to personally deliver the dossier of a very good candidate for our little project."_

" _Oh? How good?"_

" _She's got a good brain and she's in great physical condition. Very trusting. A fine specimen of a Non."_

" _That didn't answer the question. You might as well have said she was a pretty Muggle."_

" _Well, first off, she's a computer engineer for Northrop Grumman. You know what they are?"_

" _They deal with blowing things up or something, don't they?"_

" _Not quite, Rene. They're a defense corporation. She works for them—designs computer systems for satellites and spacecraft. Graduated in the top ten percent of her class at the University of California in Berkeley."_

" _I'm sure that's impressive. Any particular reason you selected a female?"_

" _Women seemed more stable during our preliminary tests. The men tended to get very…violent. So, she's the perfect candidate."_

" _A little too perfect, actually. Presumably, there's a catch?"_

" _Heh, 'course there is. She's proud and spiteful if her abilities are questioned. She'd go through hell and back just to prove a point."_

" _Sounds like a liability."_

" _No, she'll be easy to keep under control. Just make sure your people are very encouraging. The Brit accents will help."_

" _So essentially, she's got an ego."_

" _Heh, if you want to put it that way. In any case, if it works, I expect she'll be good at curses. Maybe potions, if her chemistry grades are anything to go by."_

" _So when can you get her so we can start?"_

" _Oh, here's the beauty of it. She's going to walk right into your hands in three weeks—she'll be visiting Europe with some friends and she'll be staying in London for a few days. Your best bet is to grab her while she's at Heathrow on her way home."_

" _Can you prepare in time?"_

" _Rene, I could have it ready_ yesterday _. I'll even get Mr. Sinclair back from the MBI for you. Consider it a gift."_

" _I believe, Mr. Conrad, that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."_

* * *

_A/N: So here it is, guys. For anyone coming over from "Flotsam," I'm glad you've bothered to read. : D Gives me the warm fuzzies._


	2. The Lost Outsider

**Second: The Lost Outsider**

Hermione awoke slowly, sprawled over her comforter and shivering slightly. She glanced at the clock on the wall—already half past seven—before groaning and crawling back under the sheets, curling into a ball and stuffing her cold feet underneath a still-slumbering Severus's legs. It seemed that years of living in a significantly warmer climate totally destroyed his tolerance for the cold weather of Britain—not that he admitted it, of course. Hermione had discovered one night after visiting the toilet that he'd been shivering slightly even underneath her thick comforter and cast a mild warming charm on the bed before getting back in, and she did it every night he came to stay for the past four weeks. She didn't tell him about it, but she was sure he noticed the magic all the same, if the way he seemed to hold her closer was any indication.

He couldn't stay at her flat all the time, of course. Since she had been incredibly busy trying to sort out the mess at the Department of Mysteries—it was humiliating how they had interrogated her like she was a common criminal—it left them little time to do anything during the day. And he, in turn, had to go back to his home in Hawaii to fulfill potion orders for Mrs. Takahashi's business. So they agreed to meet on the weekends, sometimes in Hawaii and sometimes at her London flat. They considered, at one point, whether it would be all right to venture out into public to have dinner, but both agreed it would be too much hassle considering the paparazzi following her around after _Witch Weekly's_ rather… _interesting_ article about her.

The day after the War Memorial commemoration, a _Witch Weekly_ article with a hilarious headline had appeared: _"The Kiss of Life! Hermione Granger's Love Resurrects Fallen War Hero!"_ She and Severus had laughed themselves silly at the article—while their writers had correctly identified Severus as the man in the photographs from the commemoration, the article was full of wild speculation ranging from her developing some all-powerful resurrection spell to necrophilia (ew). Nobody with a brain had believed a word of it ( _Witch Weekly_ had been declining in quality over the years), but it didn't stop people from talking about it. So in light of all the hubbub, they decided not to parade around in public and instead had dinner together at her flat or back in Hawaii.

This weekend was a London weekend, and she was presently trying not to giggle as Severus's brow furrowed at the coldness of her feet. She'd gotten out from underneath the sheets because it was much too warm for her, but after spending a few hours in the open, her extremities were ice cold. "You are more evil than I first thought," he murmured sleepily without opening his eyes.

"If _I'm_ evil, then what are you? Satan himself?" she laughed, absently tracing the faded brown lines on his arm left by the effects of Nagini's venom.

"Yes. You see what you've gotten into?" he murmured. "You've sold your soul to the devil."

She didn't reply, but instead grinned and snuggled a little deeper into the covers to relax for a little while longer. Today, her to-do list consisted of a few errands in Diagon Alley, and she should really leave soon to avoid the midmorning rush. "Are you sure you wouldn't like me to go with you today?" Severus said, groggily opening his eyes. "I can dazzle the damned with my satanic visage."

"No, I don't think they're quite ready for that yet," Hermione said, yawning and stretching herself out. She pressed a kiss to his nose before pulling herself out of bed. "Besides, knowing our luck, you'd be mobbed by photographers as soon as you got out of the Floo." He gave a noncommittal murmur of assent and nodded before shutting his eyes again.

Hermione had a quick shower—after which, Severus was still fast asleep—and Flooed herself over to Diagon Alley. She had to stop by Gringotts to withdraw a bit of money and pick up a book she had ordered at Obscurus Books. The Gringotts trip was relatively painless, though she found herself wishing that withdrawing money in the wizarding world was as simple as in the Muggle world; having to go down to her vault each time was rather tiresome, and the Gringotts goblins would hear none of her suggestions about how to streamline the withdrawal and deposit process.

"Ah, good morning, Hermione," said the plump Obscurus Books shopkeeper when she stepped inside the small, dusty shop.

"Good morning, Peter. Has the book I ordered arrived?" she asked, stepping up to the counter and smiling. He turned to examine the reserve shelf behind him and quickly plucked a book from it.

"Got in just last night, in fact. Sorry this one took so long," said Peter apologetically, placing the thick book on the counter as she took a handful of Galleons from her money purse. The book was obscenely expensive, but it was a rare text on transport magic that she'd been itching to get her hands on. She was hoping to find some sort of confirmation of the conclusions she'd drawn about the portkey accident, and it was unavailable in all the libraries she looked in.

"Oh, it's no problem at all," Hermione said, counting out twenty Galleons for him.

"Thought I'd let you know, Hermione," Peter said as he swept the Galleons into his hand, "there was a bloke from the Ministry that came in to ask about any orders you made."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked in alarm. Peter shrugged.

"Dunno. Said he was from the Department of Mysteries and that I had to tell him. Nervous-looking fellow," Peter explained. He gave her a rather triumphant look. "Sounded like a load of bollocks to me, 'cause the Department doesn't have any power over me so I tell him so. Must've been right, 'cause he scurried right on out without saying anything else."

"I see…Thank you very much, Peter. I really appreciate it. Have a good day," Hermione said, stuffing the book into her enchanted handbag and waving at Peter as she left the shop.

She stood on the cobbled street, her mind racing. The first suspect that came to mind was Richard Thompson, the one who had caused her portkey accident in the first place: he had been severely Confunded by that reprehensible Sinclair and would have killed her if not for a brief moment of clarity. He was also the one who had been assigned to investigate her in Hawaii, so it wouldn't surprise her if he was this nervous man that Peter described. But why on Earth would they be tracking her book purchases? Did they still think that she was leaking Ministry secrets? Or perhaps looking to refine her portkey experiments for more nefarious purposes? She was refining her experiment, to be sure, but there were no ulterior motives and she thought it had been clear enough already.

With a sigh, she turned to make her way back to the public Floo at the other end of the Alley, absently thinking about the multitude of things that needed looking into back at the Department. She was a little _too_ absentminded, it seemed, as she smacked right into someone and heard the unfortunate person stumble to the ground. "Oh my—I'm so sorry!" Hermione said, immediately crouching down to help the girl to her feet.

"Wh…what happened…?" asked the black-haired girl, wobbling a bit as she stood up. Her face was ashen and her words were slightly slurred. Hermione's first thought was that this girl was either drunk or hung over, until she caught a faint whiff of something that reminded her of maple syrup. She he leaned closer to check the girl's eyes; her pupils were dilated and the smell of syrup was on her breath. Hermione's eyes widened in realization—this girl smelled of sedation potion, and her eyes only confirmed Hermione's suspicions.

Immediately, Hermione led the girl to a nearby bench and sat her down. "Hello? Are you okay?" she asked, taking a seat beside her. The girl blinked slowly and looked to her, quite obviously struggling to focus her vision.

"I'm…I gotta buy something…" the girl said, before frowning and looking down at the scrap of parchment she was clutching in her hands. Judging by the girl's accent, she was American. What was an American doing here, and why had she been sedated? Hermione worried for a moment that the girl might have been kidnapped and abused, but she looked tidy and healthy enough on the outside.

"What happened to you? Who did this?"

The girl turned to look back toward Hermione, her head sagging as though it was too heavy for her neck to support. "What?"

"What happened to you?" Hermione repeated, more urgently this time. The sedation seemed to only just be wearing off, and she wasn't sure if the girl was Confunded as well.

"Um…"

Hermione got to her feet and pulled the girl up with her. "Come with me," she said, and found that the girl obediently began following her when she took a few steps. That certainly wasn't good—who knew what she might have been forced to do under sedation? When Hermione reached the store she wanted, the small potions shop beside the apothecary, she told the girl to stay put and quickly slipped inside to buy a small vial of Invigoration Draught, which should counteract the grogginess from the sedation nicely.

To her relief, the girl was still standing outside the shop, looking rather dazed and attracting the attention of the passersby. Hermione led her over to one of the tables outside the frozen yogurt shop that had replaced Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and sat her down again. As Hermione opened the vial and looked back to her, she realized, to her dismay, that there was dried blood on her scalp and a little bit behind her ear. Something seemed to clench in her stomach at the sight; it looked like she'd been beaten across the head…

"Drink this, it will help," said Hermione, handing the vial to the girl. Without so much as a moment of thought, the girl took the potion and downed it.

Almost immediately, a change came over the girl: the color returned to her face and she seemed to slowly sit up straighter, like a balloon being inflated. "Whoa, what happened?" she said, looking at the empty vial in her hand. She looked up at Hermione and squinted. "Did you—help me? Who are you?"

"Yes. My name is Hermione Granger," she said, holding out her hand.

"Thank you very much, Hermione. That's a neat name. Never heard it before," said the girl, shaking Hermione's hand. "I'm Angela Villar."

"What happened to you, Angela? Are you in pain?" Hermione asked, taking a seat in the other chair sitting by the table.

"Head hurts a bit...You know, I could've sworn I was just at the airport…Where am I?" and Angela, looking around in confusion. Hermione looked to her in surprise.

"What were you doing at the airport?"

"I have a flight leaving today…Oh god, what time is it?" she cried, looking to her wrist for a watch and not finding one, then patting her pockets and not finding a watch in them either. "Where's my stuff? Where'd my friends go?"

"Hey, hey, calm down," Hermione said soothingly. She glanced at her own watch. "It's nearly nine o'clock."

Panic flashed across Angela's face. " _Nine o'clock?_ I missed my flight!"

"Hang on a moment," said Hermione, holding up her hands in an attempt to calm the increasingly hysterical Angela. "Your _flight?_ Why don't you take a portkey?"

That seemed to calm Angela down, but she looked rather confused. "Portkey? What's that?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. Hermione felt rather confused as well—how could this girl not know about portkeys? Perhaps the blow to her head gave her a bit of amnesia?

"What do you remember happening?" Hermione asked quietly, leaning a little closer. Angela seemed to pick up on how serious Hermione was and looked as though she was trying quite hard to focus.

"I was at the airport...security wanted to see me…then that's where it gets fuzzy," she said finally, frowning. "Then I met this man and he gave me some stuff and left me here." She reached down and untied a sack of what sounded like money from her belt loop. "He said to buy a wand—whatever that means—and then gave me a bag of these coins. What _are_ these? Is this money?" Angela seemed amazed when she pulled out a Galleon and held it up in the sunlight.

Just who was this girl? She was at the airport waiting for a _flight_ and was sedated, then brought to Diagon Alley to buy a wand? And to make things even more perplexing, Angela had no idea about the Galleons she was holding in her hand. She even looked to have a lot of them, considering how heavy the bag looked and sounded.

"There are some words on this paper. Looks like Latin? I can't tell," said Angela, passing the parchment to Hermione. She peered at it curiously, the confusion mounting in her mind.

_Buy wand at Ollivander's_

_Stay at Leaky Cauldron (money will last 30 days)_

_Practice these (say the words):_

_\- Lumos/nox_

_\- Wingardium leviosa (swish and flick)_

_\- Locomotor mortis (point at human target)_

_\- Protego (optional)_

_Find Estelle Lattimore at Ministry once proficient_

Hermione felt her blood running cold when she read the parchment. Something was definitely wrong about this whole situation and with this confused Angela girl. She took a moment to think of anybody with the name Lattimore at the Ministry, and felt a chill spread through her when she realized that there was an Estelle Lattimore working in the Muggle Liaison Office. And with that revelation, she realized that this girl…it was almost as though she was a—

A Muggle?

No, that couldn't be right. How could she have gotten into Diagon Alley, then? The Muggle-repelling charms would have had her speeding out of there in no time flat if she was a Muggle. But then why would she have instructions to buy a wand? Angela looked to be in her late twenties and was much too old to not have had a wand before, let alone require instructions to buy one. Was it really amnesia like she thought at first? Or perhaps it was the work of a powerful Memory Charm. It wouldn't be entirely unheard of; from what Hermione recalled, Gilderoy Lockhart had been just as amazed by magic after his Memory Charm backfired on him…

But that conclusion didn't sit well with Hermione at all. A little voice in the back of her head told her that this was all wrong.

"I remember one more thing," Angela said suddenly. "I heard voices…They talked about a Sinclair guy or something…"

Hermione's heart clenched in her chest at the mention of that name, and the phrase " _shit just got real_ " drifted through her mind.

"Come with me. We're going to buy a wand," said Hermione finally, getting to her feet.

"No, I need to get to the airport! I've got to get home!" said Angela, giving her a pleading look. Hermione tried her best to look encouraging.

"It's important. Once we do that, I'll help you figure out how to get home," said Hermione. "I promise."

Angela gave her a rather dubious look and Hermione worried that she might have reached the end of her agreeableness, but she got to her feet nonetheless and waited for Hermione to lead the way. Smiling, Hermione took her to Ollivander's, holding the door open for her and quickly scanning the area around for suspicious people before stepping in herself.

"Ah, to what do I owe this immense pleasure, Miss Granger?"

Mr. Ollivander stood behind the counter, looking a little older and a little thinner but as constant as ever. The shop was as dusty as Hermione remembered when she first visited at the age of eleven, and Mr. Ollivander's eyes still shone through the gloom in that curious manner he had. "My friend needs a wand," said Hermione, gently nudging Angela toward the counter. Hermione wasn't sure if what she was doing was even right—perhaps she should have notified Harry or _someone_ first—but considering this girl's confusion, it wouldn't be safe to have her wandering around Diagon Alley without a wand.

"I don't believe we've met before," said Ollivander curiously.

"She's not from here," Hermione said. "But she needs a new wand. Her name is Angela."

"I see. Give me just a moment," said Ollivander, disappearing among the shelves and shelves of wands and pulling down a few boxes. When he returned, he held one out to Angela. "Willow and unicorn hair. Ten and a half inches. A bit whippy—good for charms."

"I'm sorry, but what's this for?" said Angela, taking the wand by the tip. Ollivander seemed startled.

"No, no, hold it at the other end. It's for magic, remember?" Hermione said quickly, taking the wand and holding the handle toward her. She hoped to high heaven that Angela would just take it and not say another word.

"Magic? What do you mean?"

Of course.

Angela gave Hermione a rather disgruntled look. "Is this some kind of joke? I need to get home."

"No, no, just wave the wand and you'll see," said Hermione in the most conciliatory voice she could. She looked to Ollivander, whose surprised expression had quickly turned into one of suspicion. "Sorry, her memory is a little shaky, Mr. Ollivander."

"Yes, well," he said, frowning. "Go on, then."

"So…just wave it, right?" said Angela, examining the wand and looking to Hermione as though she was going to suddenly jump up and yell " _gotcha!_ " She sighed and gave it a half-hearted wave.

Boxes were thrown off the shelves and scattered all over behind the counter. " _Whoa!_ " Angela exclaimed, dropping the wand in shock and staggering backwards. She stared wide-eyed at her hand, as though it was suddenly foreign to her. "Wh-what was that?"

"Not to worry, not to worry," said Ollivander. He held out another wand for her. "Oak and dragon heartstring. Eleven and a quarter inches. Very supple. Go ahead."

Angela waved this wand and gave a yelp of surprise when there was a small flash of fire that singed the countertop. " _Fuuuu_ —what's going on?"

"I'll explain later," Hermione said, taking the wand from Angela and handing it back to Mr. Ollivander.

The more wands that Ollivander presented to her, the more he seemed to forget Angela's odd behavior. He was growing ever happier as he pulled more and more boxes from the shelves. "I've not had a customer like this quite some time, Miss Granger," he said with a smile. "Don't worry, there's sure to be a wand for you in here somewhere…" And the more wands that Angela was given, the less surprised she became when boxes flew into the air or pots shattered. Granted, she still looked incredibly bewildered—terrified, even—but had long given up trying to get any answers out of Hermione.

"Perhaps this will be the one," Ollivander said, holding out yet another wand to Angela. "Rowan and unicorn tail hair. Twelve and three-quarters inches. Very dense and a bit unyielding. I don't often make wands out of rowan—they tend to be unforgiving."

A pleasantly surprised expression appeared on Angela's face when she took the wand, and red sparks flew out of the tip. "Oh, this is different," she said, smiling. "Cool."

"Wonderful," said Ollivander. He looked quite pleased. "Please do not be discouraged should the wand take some time getting used to; again, rowan can make for rather unforgiving wands. You must be confident when you use it."

"Er…okay?" Angela said, quite perplexed. "Thank you…?"

Hermione helped her pay the ten Galleons and seven Sickles for the wand—Angela's difficulty with the money seemed to intrigue Mr. Ollivander—and quickly led her out of the shop. She paused for a moment by the shop window to think—she wasn't quite sure what to do with Angela just yet. At first, Hermione thought it would have been a good idea to drop her off at St. Mungo's to get looked at, but now that Sinclair's name had been thrown into the mix, she was wary of going anywhere near the Ministry or St. Mungo's with her…Then again, perhaps it was a completely different Sinclair altogether, as the Sinclair who attacked her should be in the custody of the US Magical Bureau of Investigations.

"Hey, Hermione, I really appreciate all the help you're giving me," Angela said suddenly, jerking Hermione from her thoughts, "but I really need to get home. Is there an internet café or anything nearby that I could book another ticket at? My cell is gone too, so I'll need a computer to do it…"

And that was when Hermione caught sight of someone lurking in the alley across the road out of the corner of her eye. She peered up to get a better look and felt a chill go down her spine when she briefly met the man's firm gaze. But she had no time to call out and see what he was about: he suddenly turned and fled deeper into the alley, and Hermione thought she heard the faint _pop_ of Disapparition. Without another thought, she took Harry's Galleon from her pocket and changed the serial numbers on the edge to "NEEDTOTALK."

Her unease failed to dissipate when the reply came a minute or so later in the form of Harry's stag Patronus. She didn't even notice the passersby gawking at her or how Angela had jumped in fright as the Patronus opened its mouth to speak.

" _I know. Tell me when._ "

As the stag dissolved into the air, she changed the Galleon's serial numbers to "MYFLAT4DIN" and pocketed it again before turning to a disconcerted Angela. "I don't know where any internet cafés are, but you're welcome to use my computer at home," Hermione said, forcing a smile on her face in spite of her increasing concerns.

"Er…I think I can handle it. I hate to keep imposing on you…" said Angela, averting her gaze from Hermione and edging away a bit. Hermione caught the hidden meaning of her words—Angela seemed to be growing incredibly wary and was likely no longer comfortable being around a stranger who talked to stags made of light.

"It's not a problem at all. I'd let you borrow my cell phone," Hermione said quickly, struggling to find a suitable excuse that would convince her, "but—er—I believe I've left it at home. I live quite close…"

Angela stared at her for a moment—Hermione could almost hear the cogs turning in her head as she weighed her options—before she finally nodded. "I…I guess I could come for a little bit," she said, the suspicion evident in her voice.

_She must think I'm trying to kidnap her._

"Great," said Hermione brightly, putting a hand on Angela's shoulder. They would have to Apparate to her balcony since her fireplace was warded to reject strangers…

Without warning the poor girl first, Hermione fixed her mind on her balcony and felt the familiar squeeze of Apparition. As soon as her feet touched down, she turned her wand on Angela and Stunned her mid-scream so that she crumpled into a heap on the floor. _Sorry_ , Hermione thought, grimacing. A noise behind her caused her to wheel around and raise her wand defensively, but she relaxed when she realized it was only Severus lounging in a deck chair with a bowl of ice cream, regarding her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

"Is there any reason you brought a guest here, only to Stun her upon arrival?"

* * *

_A/N: Ice creeaaaam._

_So for anyone wondering why I'm updating so fast, it's because I would go nuts at work otherwise. I work at a tier 1 computer help desk while I wait to start grad school and do a lot of writing at work to keep myself from going insane. It's a lot easier than trying to draw while working. Anywho, I might have one more update in me before I leave to hang out in NYC for a week._

_For the person who asked about where I got "Takahashi," no, I didn't get it from Ai Takahashi. XD Sorry. Takahashi's a common name._

_There will be more Snape in the next chapter. Cross my heart._

_**Ninja edit:** Made a few lines more visually appealing (to me XD)._


	3. Making Sense of a Puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy have some cringy Japanese in here. In my defense, I was young and stupid. I'm not quite so young anymore, and hopefully less stupid.

**Third: Making Sense of a Puzzle**

"Are you…eating ice cream for breakfast?"

"Your surprise suggests that you've never considered the idea."

Hermione was rendered temporarily speechless as she watched Severus put a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth with a smirk. "In any case," she said when she regained her composure, "there may be a situation."

"Oh?" Severus said, arching an eyebrow and following her inside as she used _mobilicorpus_ to move Angela's unconscious form from the balcony to the sofa in the sitting room. She folded her arms and stared down at Angela with a frown.

"There's something rather odd about this girl. _And_ she mentioned hearing Sinclair's name getting thrown around. Granted, I don't know if the person in question is _that_ Sinclair…" She trailed off anxiously and began pacing beside the sofa.

"Explain."

Hermione let out a quiet sigh and detailed her trip to Diagon Alley—about how she found this girl, Angela Villar, standing in the alleyway recovering from sedation, and how she was given instructions to buy a wand, and how she had been so utterly clueless about wands in the first place. "I'd thought to take her to St. Mungo's at first because I thought it might have been a problem with the wound on her head or a Memory Charm, but then she mentioned hearing Sinclair's name. Then, right after we got her wand, I caught someone watching us from across the street," Hermione said, giving Severus a dark look.

"As far as I know, Sinclair is still locked up by the MBI," Severus muttered as he examined the parchment Angela had been holding. "Perhaps I should pay Danny a visit and ask him about it."

"I think…it'd be a good idea," said Hermione. "Harry seemed to know something when I sent him a message that we should talk. He'll be coming by around dinner time."

"I see. I'll go to Danny's right now…he should still be awake," Severus said, peering at his pocket watch. "Before I leave, what do you intend to do with her? She'll wake up eventually."

"I know this sounds terrible of me, but I wanted to keep her asleep a little while longer while we sort things out," Hermione said, biting her lip. "Then again…it's her right to know what's happening, and she _just_ recovered from being sedated earlier…"

"I think it best to let her sleep for now. Anyway, I'll be back soon," Severus said as he opened her tin of Floo powder and threw a handful into the fire, stepping in as the flames turned green. "Oahu Public Floo Terminal!" With a blaze of ash and green flame, he disappeared. She'd never been more glad that she was paying for the international Floo connection to the Oahu Public Floo Terminal—while it was certainly expensive, it was easier than arranging for portkeys every time she needed to go to Hawaii. In light of today, however, she wondered if it might be a better idea to have her flat disconnected from the Floo Network altogether to preempt any further tracking by the Department.

Hermione sank down in the armchair adjacent to her sofa, her brow furrowed as she struggled to make sense of what was happening. Suppose that this Angela girl had been affected by a powerful Memory Charm. Then why would she have been left alone in Diagon Alley with a sack of money and instructions to become proficient in simple spells before meeting with Estelle Lattimore at the Muggle Liaison Office? A Memory Charm that powerful would have rendered her helpless like it did Gilderoy Lockhart—unless she was a Muggle-born and retained her memories of Muggle life. Still, that did not explain why she seemed to have such clear memories of being at the airport and waiting for her flight home.

What if she was a Muggle-born that was simply never informed and never trained to use magic? Surely there were people like that out in the world.

"No, none of these make enough sense," Hermione muttered in frustration.

But suppose for a moment… _suppose_ for a moment that this girl had been a Muggle at one point. A ludicrous idea at first glance—nobody could suddenly become a witch no more than a witch could suddenly become a Muggle—but wasn't it her job as a researcher to examine whether these sorts of ideas have any merit? Suppose that this was true, that this girl was perfectly normal prior to being taken from the airport. What would have changed, then, in between the time of her kidnapping to the time she was left at Diagon Alley?

Was there magic to induce magical ability in Muggles? There was never any hint of such a possibility in any text that she'd ever read. In fact, she'd come across many texts that flatly insisted the exact opposite: that no magic could make a non-magical being into a functioning magical one. Sure, they could be enchanted to _appear_ magical, but the magic would have come from the enchanter, not the enchantee. Was Angela under a spell of some kind, perhaps? But that would not explain the way that Mr. Ollivander's wands reacted to her as though she was a witch. _The wand chooses the wizard_ , and one had chosen her…

She glanced back at the fire in surprise when she heard the sounds of it flaring up. "Back already?" she asked as Severus stepped out of the fire.

"Can you modify the ward to let Danny through?" he asked.

"Of course," said Hermione, slightly puzzled but waving her wand at the fireplace nonetheless.

Just moments after she modified the ward, the fire burned green once more and Danny stumbled through. He seemed to have prepared himself in quite a hurry—his shirt was damp at the shoulders, his hair askew, and he was holding his jeans up as they had not yet been buttoned (which Hermione took care not to stare at in case she caught sight of anything…private).

"Sorry, Severus caught me while I was showering," Danny said with a laugh, hurriedly turning from Hermione to button his pants.

"What was the big rush?" Hermione asked, even more puzzled due to Danny's rather unkempt appearance. He took a moment to straighten out his shirt and dry his hair with a spell before giving her a rather solemn look.

"I've got some bad news," Danny said quietly. "Sinclair escaped from the San Diego holding facility last night."

A horrible numbness spread through Hermione's body. So Sinclair had escaped. It wasn't so farfetched, then, that the voices Angela heard were referencing _that_ abominable Sinclair.

"How did he get out? Where did he go?" Hermione said, her voice slightly strained.

"That's the thing—we know he had inside help getting out, but we have no idea who, no idea why, and no idea where he went," said Danny. His mouth was turned up in a sort of helpless, apologetic smile. "All the guards in the building were so badly Confunded and memory-wiped that the Legilimens there is _still_ trying to figure out what happened to their brains."

"What about the others? That other Auror he was with and those Hit Wizards?" Severus asked, a deep frown on his face.

"The funny thing is that they're still there," Danny said with a small laugh. "Whoever came for Sinclair left them behind. They're not too happy about it."

There was a tense silence as both Hermione and Severus took a moment to let this information sink in.

"Do you think it a coincidence that Angela shows up in Diagon Alley the day after Sinclair escapes?" Hermione said slowly, looking from Angela's still unconscious form to Severus. He was visibly clenching and unclenching his jaw, a tic that Hermione found he had when deep in thought. Danny was giving her a curious look, likely wondering who Angela might be, so she gestured to the sleeping girl on the sofa. "This is Angela. I found her at a wizarding shopping area."

"Oh. Is there something special about her?" Danny asked in surprise.

When Hermione finished relating her experience once again, Danny was surprisingly cheerful about the whole thing. "Well, that's something," he said, giving a whistle of amazement. "So…you haven't talked to her about this all yet, have you?"

"No, not…quite," said Hermione, feeling slightly embarrassed with herself.

"I wonder…Does Legilimency work on unconscious people?" said Danny, looking from Hermione to Severus curiously.

"Too late," said Severus lazily and glancing at the sofa. Angela was slowly stirring and emitting a few groans of what Hermione hoped was only general discomfort and not agonizing pain from when she'd Stunned her.

"I have an idea," Danny whispered, taking a seat on the coffee table and gesturing for Hermione to take a seat as well. He sat up, his back straight and an almost sickeningly sweet smile plastered on his face, and elbowed Hermione in the arm to presumably get her to do the same. Which she didn't.

Angela put a hand to her face and let out another groan before opening her eyes and looking about in groggy confusion. "What…what happened?" she muttered. Her eyes darted about for a moment and found themselves in an unfamiliar environment, and she quickly went from breathing calmly to nearly hyperventilating. "Wh-where am I?"

"Calm down, Angela," Hermione said gently, putting a hand on Angela's arm. "I helped you in the alley, remember? You were going to use my computer?"

"Wh—eh?" was all Angela could say as she pulled herself into a sitting position. Her eyes were wide in terror, but Hermione was glad to see that her breathing was beginning to slow down. "Why am I—?"

"You passed out when you got here. How are you feeling?"

"All right, I guess…" She was staring at Danny, who still had that creepily cheerful smile on his face, with mingled suspicion and fear.

"This is Danny," said Hermione, elbowing his arm in an attempt to get him to ease up on the sweetness a _teeny_ bit. "He's my friend and he's from Hawaii, so I thought he might be able to help."

It seemed that having another American in the room greatly reassured her, because she immediately seemed to relax and let out the breath she'd been holding in. "So I heard you missed your flight home and turned up in some shopping center," Danny said brightly, as though she'd simply missed the bus. "Got your passport?"

"Passport…my passport!" Angela felt around her pockets and, when she found nothing, began to panic again. "Where's my passport? H-how will I get home now?"

"Hey now, we can just call the US Embassy later." The reassurance that Angela got from hearing those words was such that Hermione had a hard time believing that Angela had any clue about the wizarding world. "But we were worried that you passed out," Danny continued, "so it's good that Hermione's boyfriend is a healer." Hermione nearly choked at the blasé way that Danny had thrown that little tidbit out.

"Healer?"

"Sorry, I meant doctor," said Danny quickly, laughing. "Sometimes we play MMOs and he's always the healer, right? Doctor…healer…it's all the same."

Hermione wasn't sure what Danny was talking about (what the hell are MMOs?), but Angela seemed to get it and was nodding in understanding. Whatever works, right? "So, Severus, do you think you could take a _look_ at her?" Danny said, getting up from his seat to allow Severus to sit.

"Oh, so what kind of doctor are you?" Angela asked, smiling as Severus took Danny's spot on the coffee table. Hermione could see his jaw clenched: he didn't know what to answer—of course he wouldn't—and she was about to make up some rubbish nonsense when he opened his mouth to speak.

"General—doctor," he said slowly.

Fortunately, this was something that Angela was satisfied with. "So…please sit still while I…examine you," said Severus, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. She seemed a little uncomfortable with his eyes on hers, but before she could get a word in, Severus muttered, " _Legilimens._ "

Her mouth hung open and she sat stock still as Severus sifted through her mind. It had seemed like a noisy process to Hermione the one time that Severus used Legilimency on her to determine if her memory had been wiped—there had been a lot of sound in her mind from her memories—so it was almost unnaturally silent during the entire ordeal. Hermione counted two minutes before Angela finally fell sideways onto the sofa, completely out cold as Severus gave his head a quick shake, as though trying to clear something from his mind.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked worriedly, putting a hand on his arm.

"Her mind is…full of numbers and code," said Severus with a frown. When she gave him a curious look, he gave a small laugh. "She is a software engineer…she writes computer code and documentation for a living. And is a Muggle as far as I could tell."

Silence.

"But she had a significant portion of her recent memory modified," he continued quietly. "A wizard dressed as airport security pulled her aside and drew his wand on her before the following memories were removed. Whatever happened to her that allowed her to purchase a wand happened between the time she was taken from the airport and when you found her in Diagon Alley."

"But…how is that possible?" Hermione sputtered in shock. "I've read so many books that explicitly state that it is impossible to make a Muggle or Squib into a witch or wizard!"

"Are you sure she was a Non—er, Muggle?" Danny asked, his mouth contorted in a frown that didn't suit his face. "She's not just a witch with Non parents?"

"I'm positive she's a—she _was_ —a Muggle," Severus said quietly. "I've performed Legilimency on Muggles before; her mind felt like theirs, not like a wizard's mind. It's a…difficult concept to explain," he added when Hermione and Danny gave him questioning looks.

"Still, there's just no precedence for this sort of thing," Hermione said, throwing herself into an armchair as a sort of frenzy began bubbling in her stomach. "And if Sinclair is involved…He got people from the Department involved in whatever it is he tried to accomplish by trying to kill me. I wouldn't be surprised if he managed to tangle the Ministry up in this."

"It's difficult to imagine the Ministry supporting something like this, though," said Severus, folding his arms over his chest and frowning. "The Dark Lord may be gone, but the blood purity sentiment was always strong in the Ministry. The news of a Muggle somehow obtaining magic would likely turn the Ministry on its head."

That was definitely a sobering thought. Hermione hadn't thought of it earlier due to her fixation on the sheer impossibility of it all, but Severus was right: the Ministry would be liable to implode into itself if word of this got out. However, considering that Angela had instructions to see Estelle Lattimore at the Ministry…

…Perhaps this was the idea all along.

"Hey, whose Patronus?" said Danny suddenly, his eyes fixed on the balcony doors.

Hermione barely had time to turn and look before a terrier Patronus flew through the doors and into the room, settling on the coffee table beside Severus. " _Hit Wizards coming for the girl_ ," the Patronus said in Ron's voice. " _They know you have her. Don't fight. Authorized to use deadly force. Harry and I are trying to sort it out._ "

"Quick, hide in my bedroom, both of you," Hermione hissed, leaping up onto her feet as the Patronus dissipated into the air. Severus needed no further prompting and dragged a rather confused Danny into the hallway and out of sight.

It was fortunate that Severus had been so quick on the uptake: almost as though on cue, there was a heavy-handed knock on her door, almost like a mock courtesy before it was thrown open with a loud _BANG_. Three Hit Wizards stomped into her sitting room without so much as a how-do-you-do, wands raised and pointed straight at her. "Hermione Granger, we have come to collect Angela Villar from you," said the first Hit Wizard gruffly. He was a burly man with a square face that seemed permanently set into a frown, and his wand looked comically twig-like in his hand.

"And who are you?" she retorted coldly, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Brian Stockton from the Hit Wizard Office. We have been instructed to relieve you of Angela Villar, and we will do so whether you like it or not," he said, twitching his wand ever so slightly. She quietly bristled with rage, but had the presence of mind to take a page out of Danny's book.

"Under what charges? She's done nothing wrong. In fact, she seemed lost when I found her," she said, staring Stockton right in the eye and hoping he'd be somewhat fazed by it.

He was not.

"There are no charges. She was simply lost, and now we have found her. We _will_ be taking her with us," said Stockton calmly, looking to one of his companions and jerking his head at the unconscious Angela on the sofa.

"What are you going to do with her?"

"It is none of your concern, Ms. Granger, and if you know what's good for you—" Stockton twitched his wand again. "—you will leave it at that. And in turn, we will not bother you again."

They stared each other down in silence as one of the other Hit Wizards levitated Angela off the couch and took her arm before Disapparating away. Hermione wanted to tear her eyes away, but she forced herself to remain defiant and unwavering. Not that she really knew why, of course, but there was something about Stockton that she didn't like, as though he knew something that she didn't and was subtly flaunting this knowledge with every twitch of his wand.

"I will take my leave now, Ms. Granger. Goodbye."

When the door slammed shut, knocking a framed photo off its hook on the wall and sending it to the floor with a tiny crash, Severus and Danny immediately emerged from the hallway. "Well, that was weird," said Danny as Hermione repaired the frame and hung it on the wall again.

"It confirms that the Ministry—or at least a group within the Ministry—has something to do with what happened to Angela," Hermione said, clenching her fists in frustration. Although she'd only just met the girl, she felt as though she had a duty to protect her from whatever it was the Ministry (or Sinclair) was concocting for her—whatever it was, it couldn't be good if it involved kidnapping an unsuspecting person from the airport and then authorizing the use of deadly force to recover said unsuspecting person. She suspected, however, that if it hadn't been herself that had picked up Angela in Diagon Alley, whoever had sent the Hit Wizards probably wouldn't have gone through the trouble of recovering her.

Was it simply due to her celebrity status? Or did her reputation for intelligence and cleverness precede her?

Or was it for the same reason that Sinclair had been so interested in her (or indeed, interesting in killing her)?

"We should probably ask Potter if he knows what they're doing with the girl," said Severus, taking a seat on the sofa. He was silent for a moment, deep in thought, before peering up at Hermione. "Unless you have sufficient standing within the Ministry to innocently ask around about what might have happened. Use your feminine wiles."

"'Feminine wiles'?" Hermione said incredulously, unable to hold back an amused smile. "Shall I go into the office in a bikini and a sarong?"

Severus's face was incomprehensible apart from the slightest twitch in the corner of his mouth. "If you wish to render them incoherent, be my guest," he said, arching an eyebrow ever so slightly. "Though I'll admit that the thought of you baring yourself to wrinkled Ministry fools…I may storm in there and gouge their unworthy eyes out."

Hermione was momentarily rendered speechless by the idea of Severus barging into the Ministry and plucking eyeballs out of old Ministry codgers. There were a few that had _that look_ about them…They really could do with a good eye-gouging some days.

"Hey look, she likes the idea," Danny laughed, jerking Hermione out of her happy reverie filled with dirty, old, and eyeless men.

"In any case," said Hermione, still unable to keep the smile off her face (which, in turn, made Severus smirk at her), "we should probably wait to see what Harry and Ron have to say before doing anything else."

At that, Danny plopped himself down onto the sofa and leaned against Severus's shoulder, clutching a horrified Severus's arm with a cheeky grin. "Let me take a quick nap then…It's my bedtime back home," he said as he shut his eyes, clinging to Severus as the latter tried and failed to get away from Danny's comically limp body.

"Go take a nap at home! Get off me!"

* * *

Severus Snape's wardrobe was like a box of surprises.

Though the penguin and octopus shirts should have been a clear indication of the mysteries within, nonetheless Hermione was having trouble connecting the name "Severus Snape" with the man who was pulling on socks on the edge of her bed. Nobody who saw him now would have ever guessed that this man was _the_ Severus Snape—this man dressed in a green hoodie with a minimalistic (and rather artsy) white print of a penguin on the front. The design looked Japanese in origin: the penguin print had thick, uniform lines and was adorable in that fat, big-eyed, nose-less way that the Japanese seemed to have.

Why was he so obsessed with penguins?

She was sure that he was dressing this way specifically because they were going to see Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts today. He'd been dressing relatively normally for the past few weeks in conservative black slacks and plain polo shirts, so seeing him today was like finding a fish flopping up into the air and slapping her in the face. At first, he seemed reluctant to join her at Hogwarts to go through the library's Restricted Section for any clues as to what might have happened to Angela, but now he seemed borderline cheerful about it.

While Harry ended up being unable to come and discuss what had happened the previous day because of the mess at the Auror Office he was trying to sort out, he'd sent Ron in his place to fill them all in on the details. Harry was apparently doing what he could to keep the Ministry from getting into an uproar over an escaped rogue Auror while Ron and one trusted Hit Wizard (who turned out to be Dean Thomas) tried to figure why the Hit Wizard Office had given the order to retrieve Angela. In the meantime, Hermione was to look into what might have happened to Angela in the event that she truly was a Muggle. To avoid being on the Ministry's radar as much as possible, they had turned to the Hogwarts library for research material; Professor McGonagall was quite clear about the line between Ministry and Hogwarts, and over the years had consistently refused to allow the Ministry to put even a toe over that line—which meant, happily, that McGonagall would absolutely not allow the Ministry to meddle in what they were doing and might even provide the offender a verbal lashing on the side.

"You look comfortable," Hermione said when Severus finished with his shoes and socks and stood up, a hint of sarcasm coloring her voice.

"You have no idea," he said, letting out a quiet chuckle as he followed her out the room and onto her balcony. He wrapped his arm around her waist. "Ready to go?"

When she nodded, she felt the squeeze of Apparition and suddenly found herself standing on the small trail leading from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. It took the both of them a few moments to figure out which way was which, but once they got their bearings, they set off on a brisk walk toward the grounds. It didn't look to be a Hogsmeade weekend, since there was neither sight nor sound of any students on the trail, but if there had been, they would have been treated to the sight of War Heroine Hermione Granger strolling along clutching the hand of Former Headmaster Severus Snape.

There were some students, however, hanging around in the entrance courtyard chatting or playing gobstones. At this point, Hermione had released Severus's hand in case they looked a little odd waltzing into the castle hand-in-hand, but the students stared anyway, either because it was Hermione Granger walking by or because there was a man dressed in a hoodie with her, or both. As they walked through the halls and encountered a few older students walking the opposite direction, she could've sworn that she heard one whisper to her friend " _I thought that man was d—?_ " before disappearing around a corner.

"Is it odd being back here?" Hermione whispered as they headed for the seventh floor. Severus gave an offhand snort that was a borderline sigh. It was obvious he was trying to look disinterested in the castle, but his body had stiffened up when they entered and his jaw was clenched tightly shut, as though trying to hold back a wave of vomit. His silent distress was unsurprising; if it had been herself in such a difficult situation as the headmistress of the school during Voldemort's reign, she'd probably be on the verge of tears upon returning (if not already _in_ tears).

Hermione didn't dare try to get Severus to speak until they reached the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress's Office in case he really did feel the need to vomit. They stopped in front of the gargoyle and she opened her mouth to say the password, but the gargoyle suddenly turned its head to look at Severus before she could say a word.

"I didn't think you'd ever come here again, Headmaster," the gargoyle said, the slightest hint of smugness in its voice. Hermione was rather surprised at its tone—the gargoyle hardly ever spoke at all, so it was a bit disconcerting to hear it sounding so self-satisfied.

"It certainly wasn't to see you. Pity that Minerva didn't make you prettier when she fixed you," Severus said with a smugness to equal the gargoyle's and a smirk to match.

The gargoyle seemed to narrow its eyes and said tersely, "Password."

" _Glen Coe_ ," said Hermione, and the gargoyle silently—almost sullenly, in fact—jumped aside to give them access to the moving staircase. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Severus smirk at the gargoyle as they stepped onto the stairs and stifled her own smile of amusement.

When the staircase deposited them in front of the door, Hermione knocked lightly and pushed it open when she heard McGonagall's muffled "enter" from the other side. "Hello, Professor," said Hermione brightly when she stepped in and found McGonagall writing something at her desk.

"Hello, my dear. Just give me a moment to—Severus!" McGonagall had looked up just as Severus slipped inside after Hermione.

"Good afternoon, Minerva," said Severus, giving her a thin smile as they drew up to her desk. "Albus," he added when he found Dumbledore's portrait beaming at him. Hermione could hear the whispers of the other headmasters' portraits as they approached McGonagall's desks, and was able to gather that they were rather shocked to see Severus there. His own portrait was empty like it had been when Hermione visited after the Memorial commemoration; was Portrait-Severus sulking somewhere again?

"I didn't think that you would accompany Hermione here, Severus, as I believe you had vowed never to step foot in this castle again," McGonagall said, gesturing for them to take a seat as she tapped the teapot on her desk with her wand. Steam burst from the teapot's spout while McGonagall scooped tea leaves into cups for them.

"It seemed pertinent, considering everything that's happening. I trust Hermione already explained everything to you in her letter?"

"Indeed. Well, you're both welcome to use the library as you like, so long as you don't terrorize any students while you're there," said McGonagall, shooting Severus an accusatory look. "I don't need there to be a mass panic about Professor Snape's ghost harassing students."

"I would never," Severus said in mock indignation, prompting McGonagall to eye him suspiciously.

"I'll make sure he doesn't, Professor," Hermione added when McGonagall's suspicious look did not fade. "Anyway, Ron and Harry send their regards. To you too, Professor Dumbledore."

"Thank you, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore brightly from his frame. "Do come and let us know if you discover anything in the library. Minerva described your letter and I must admit that I'm curious as well."

"Do you have any theories, Professor?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Perhaps I'd better hold off on my theories, lest I lead you on in the wrong direction," Dumbledore said with a smile. It sent a slight twinge of irritation through Hermione, but it quickly passed; it reminded her of Dumbledore's potentially dangerous habit of withholding information and made her wonder if he already knew what was going on and simply wished for them to find out on their own. Severus shared the sentiment, it seemed, for he eyed Dumbledore's portrait with a look of slight distaste before turning away and taking a sip of tea.

"So Severus, what did you do to your face?" McGonagall said lightly, with the air of someone trying to quickly change the subject. "You don't seem the type to be into body art."

"Ah, this isn't a tattoo," said Severus. He gave a small chuckle that seemed to shock the headmaster portraits. "Nagini's venom had some… _interesting_ long-term effects that resulted in scarring once it was completely purged. Though some Muggle girls did see me and thought I looked rather dashing with the marks."

He was referring to, of course, the faded brown scars left by the web-like dark lines that had spread over his skin due to the lingering venom that had settled in his body. The dark lines had spread to his face and arms before he and Hermione finished the potion to completely cure him and, upon drinking the completed potion, had left permanent brown scars that they couldn't remove. Though Hermione had to admit that it added a certain _je ne sais quoi_ to his appearance that she couldn't put a finger on; it wasn't so much that he looked dashing, but perhaps a little more devil-may-care.

And she had to admit that she rather liked it.

"Is that so?" said Dumbledore with a small laugh. "I am glad that you are healed now, Severus. I was delighted to hear of it from Miss Granger."

"Indeed. Thank you," was all that Severus said and even sounded like the Severus of yore. Regardless of how much he'd changed over the years and how much he'd been able to let go of, he seemed to be having some trouble warming up to Dumbledore's portrait again and even looked slightly wary—not that Hermione was surprised in the least.

"I—I want to thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore suddenly, looking uncharacteristically pained. Severus looked mildly surprised and brought his gaze back to the portrait. "For everything that you've done, and for everything that I put you through."

"I—" Severus began, though it seemed he thought better of it and paused a moment to gather his thoughts. There was a strained silence; Dumbledore and Severus stared silently at each other while Hermione shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"I'm sor—" Dumbledore started when it was becoming clear that Severus was not going to be volunteering anything.

"No, don't apologize," Severus interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "I don't want to feel like you regret all that we went through to stop the Dark Lord."

"Of course. You're right."

After that little exchange, Hermione noticed that Severus's body relaxed slightly, as though he'd been anticipating Dumbledore's words and, after getting his little retort in, was finally satisfied. "Why is my portrait empty?" Severus ventured, the bite gone from his voice.

"Well, your portrait seemed a little anxious today and left his frame when I mentioned that Hermione would be visiting," said McGonagall, peering at the empty frame over her shoulder. "Which is odd, because he's been in quite a good mood lately."

Hermione and Severus exchanged sidelong glances, the corner of Severus's mouth twitching.

"Well, I suppose we'll be off to the library, then," Hermione said, getting to her feet before McGonagall could ask any questions regarding more private matters.

"If you want to stay for dinner, it'll be at seven. We can catch up more then," said McGonagall.

With a nod to Professor McGonagall and to Dumbledore's portrait, Hermione turned to leave with Severus close behind. They were almost at the door—indeed, Hermione had already pulled it open a bit—when a voice suddenly rang out:

"What the bloody hell are you wearing?"

Portrait-Severus was staring at them from his frame looking utterly aghast.

"This would be a hoodie," said Severus, a smirk slowly spreading over his face as he seemed to stroll right back to McGonagall's desk.

" _Why?_ " demanded his portrait, his eyes blazing through the canvas.

"Why not?" Severus asked coolly, his smirk never faltering. "It's quite comfortable. A pity you never got to experience one."

"You look like a fool! Is that a _penguin_ on the front?"

Severus glanced down at his sweater at the penguin print, as though surprised to see that it was there, before looking up at the portrait again.

"I like penguins."

" _What?_ "

At this point, Hermione was struggling to hold in her laughter at Portrait-Severus's indignation. It seemed that, while the two were connected at some emotional level, Severus's memories were clearly not transferring to the portrait: Portrait-Severus was very much still the ill-tempered Severus Snape she knew from the old days. Apparently, the penguin obsession was a new development.

"No need to be so uptight, portrait," said Severus, laughing in amusement. "Penguins are cute, wouldn't you say?"

" _Cute?_ "

If the portrait had been a real person, he might have had an aneurysm.

"It's like I don't even know you anymore," Portrait-Severus said, his mouth hanging open in horror.

At this point, Hermione couldn't hold it in and let a laugh escape before clapping a hand to her mouth. This was all playing out like some bizarre Korean drama and she wouldn't have been surprised if she found out that someone would soon be dying of brain cancer. Severus's portrait glared at her accusatorily before rounding on Severus again. "Your Patronous?" he demanded.

"No longer a doe."

It seemed that Portrait-Severus couldn't decide whether to look horrified or relieved and ended up looking like he just smelled something dreadful. "Well, what is it?" he asked once he'd rearranged his face into a scowl.

"A phoenix," Severus said simply.

"Why Severus, I didn't know you felt that way about me," Dumbledore chimed in. Another laugh escaped Hermione's lips; Dumbledore was quick on the uptake and Hermione hadn't expected his portrait to have a penchant for this sort of humor. Portrait-Severus looked absolutely mortified.

"You—Albus—? But I never felt anything for—! When did this—?" Portrait-Severus was becoming incoherent with mingled rage and confusion, and it seemed that even McGonagall—who had looked rather disapproving earlier—was having trouble holding back her laughter.

"Sorry, Albus, but it would never work between us," Severus said with a sigh of mock regret. Hermione suddenly found herself pulled to his side and his arm thrown around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It would break Hermione's heart."

At this, Portrait-Severus nearly toppled out of his frame.

"It's _her?_ _She's_ the one who's been making you all mushy inside?"

"You've been mushy inside because of me?" Hermione asked curiously, grinning.

How touching.

"ええ、大好きだ。Hermioneが島に来て、大好きになった," Severus said with a smile. While it sounded lovely coming out of his mouth, Hermione had no idea what the hell he was saying, nor did Portrait-Severus, it seemed.

"So you speak a foreign language now? What is that, Korean?" the portrait said, rolling his eyes.

"Japanese."

Silence.

"I expect you'll tell me next that you're best friends with Potter and Weasley." It was obvious that Portrait-Severus desperately hoped this was not the case. Severus let out a low chuckle.

"I think we're rather good…friends, yes."

The look of sheer and utter defeat that appeared across Portrait-Severus's features was too much: Hermione let loose her mirth, as did Severus, who laughed whole-heartedly along, the sounds of their raucous laughter dancing together in the confines of McGonagall's office. It seemed almost cathartic for Severus: it was as though all his anxiety upon entering the castle was leaving him in the form of almost maddened laughter. When Hermione finally got a hold of herself, she stole a quick glance around the room and found that most of the headmasters' portraits—including Severus's—looked shocked by their display.

"Dear boy, you don't know how good it is to hear your laughter," said Dumbledore, beaming at him. Severus, who still had a grin on his face and was clutching his stomach, could only nod.

"Perhaps you two should go and let his portrait be," McGonagall said, hurriedly stifling the wide smile on her face.

"Right. Well, we'll be off to the library, then," said Hermione, nodding again to McGonagall and Dumbledore (and Portrait-Severus, though he was too busy reeling to notice) before pulling Severus toward the door. A wide grin was still on his face, and it occurred to Hermione that Severus might be the only person with the audacity to take such pleasure in tormenting his own portrait.

When they were on the moving staircase again, Hermione smiled up at Severus with a small laugh. "You weren't lying when you said Professor McGonagall was good at keeping secrets," she said. "She didn't even let anything slip to your portrait."

"Indeed. I was incredibly fortunate that it was someone like Minerva that found me," said Severus, brushing hair from his face as he breathed out heavily to rid himself of any lingering mirth.

"I think you really surprised him. Your portrait, I mean. You dressed like that _just_ for your portrait, didn't you?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your presumptions, you insufferable know-it-all," said Severus dryly. Hermione snorted and elbowed him lightly in the ribs in spite of the smile on her face.

Thankfully, the gargoyle didn't speak to them as they passed. They walked by a few students as they made their way down to the library entrance, but none of them really spared more than a passing glance. In fact, their trip down to the lower levels seemed rather unexciting—which is what Hermione had expected, but she sensed that Severus might have been hoping for someone else to torment—until, fortuitously, they drew up behind a familiar figure carrying a lantern and something large in his arms.

"Is that…?" Severus muttered into Hermione's ear.

"Yes."

_This may turn out to be interesting._

" _Longbottom!_ What in the blazes do you think you're doing?"

" _FUCK!_ "

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the incredibly long wait! I was in New York City for a week, and then I got sick when I got back. I made this chapter extra long to hopefully make up for it. Haha._

_Anywho, here's how you pronounce what Snape was saying in Japanese:_

_ええ、大好きだ。_ _Hermione_ _が_ _島に来て、大好きになった。  
Ee, daisuki da. Hermione ga shima ni kite, daisuki ni natta._

_Which boils down to: "Yeah, I love her. When Hermione came to the island, I fell in love." It's a bit stiff in terms of casual conversation, but my Japanese isn't what it used to be and ol' Snape was only there for a year anyway._

_How cheesy. I'm actually a little horrified that I wrote that. Good thing Hermione can't understand what the heck he was saying. That's my only comfort. Hahahaha._


	4. In Motion

**Fourth: In Motion**

" _Longbottom!_ What in the blazes do you think you're doing?"

" _FUCK!_ "

Neville's reaction to suddenly hearing Severus's authoritative voice was magnitudes greater than Hermione expected: he jumped so badly that the lantern and what seemed to be a tangle of tentacle-like plant creepers flew out of his arms as he tripped and stumbled, the lantern shattering against the wall with a loud _crash_. As he staggered forward, he twisted himself around and, with surprising accuracy for someone who was just startled out of his wits, fired a jet of red light at Severus. He lazily deflected the Stunning Spell and swept over toward the unfortunate man, whose eyes were wide in bewilderment. Hermione had to admit that the whole dramatic sweeping thing was much more impressive when he was wearing those billowing black robes—it just didn't have the same _oomph_ in a hoodie and slacks.

"Attacking a teacher, Longbottom?" said Severus silkily, looking down his nose at Neville. Poor Neville looked ready to soil his pants.

There was a brief silence punctuated only by the sounds of Neville's panicked breathing, before Severus leaned down and offered Neville his hand.

"My apologies, Longbottom," he said with a small smile. "I didn't think your reaction to my voice would be quite so…fantastic."

Neville did not take his hand; in fact, he scooted back slightly, eyes fixed on Severus's arm as though it was on fire. Small wonder, too, as Severus had offered his left hand. Was Neville thinking, perhaps, that the Dark Mark still resided underneath his sleeve?

Severus, ever perceptive, glanced from Neville's eyes to his own left sleeve and, with a tiny sigh, pulled his sleeve up and bared his forearm, which had a few scars from Nagini's venom but no Dark Mark in sight. "If you're looking for the Dark Mark, it's gone," said Severus. When still Neville didn't answer or even move, Severus turned to Hermione in exasperation. "It's no use, I've scared him witless. Can you talk to him?"

"Neville," Hermione said, immediately trotting forward and offering her own hand to Neville. He took it slowly, as though unsure if he was really seeing her there.

"Hermione…what…?"

But their conversation was forestalled when Severus suddenly jabbed his wand over Neville's shoulder, sending little balls of fire past Neville's face and singeing the tips of his hair. "That's Devil's Snare, isn't it? It was creeping up behind you," said Severus, arching an eyebrow. Hermione peered over Neville's shoulder and found that it was indeed a small Devil's Snare recoiling and writhing away from the little balls of fire surrounding it.

"So the rumors are true, then," Neville said shakily as he finally got to his feet. "How?"

"Haven't you read _Witch Weekly's_ article? Hermione has a life-giving kiss," Severus said matter-of-factly. "I've been dead for ten years and only just came back to life a few weeks ago."

"Wh-what? Really?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "No, you fool," he said as Hermione stifled a giggle. "If I was really dead for ten years, do you think my body would be in any way fit to be kissed? Unless Hermione is a necrophiliac, which I'm certain is _not_ the case."

"Then…you've been alive…this whole time?" Neville said quietly, his eyes still wide in confusion. Severus nodded.

"Indeed I have. Hermione found me, in fact, and I've come back to help her research something."

"Liar," Hermione interjected. "You came along because you wanted to harass your portrait."

"That may have also been a reason."

Neville's confusion only grew with that little exchange, and he made a few incomprehensible sounds that may have been attempts at speaking before finally stringing together distinguishable words. "Th-then where have you been? Were you hiding in Britain?" he managed to ask.

"Why would I stay in this god-forsaken country? It's cold and wet," said Severus wearily.

"Then where have you been?"

"Living on a palm-lined tropical beach," Severus said with a smirk. Neville gave him a skeptical look that made it clear he didn't believe a word it. Severus let out a sigh. "Look, I expect you have several curses you'd like to send my direction. Let's get it over with, Longbottom."

"You what?"

Hermione looked to Severus in slight surprise before she realized what it was he was implying. It would be foolish to expect the wizarding world to accept him back with open arms, regardless that the few people he had become reacquainted with were quite agreeable about it all. They were bound to come across someone who would love to curse him into an unrecognizable pulp, and Hermione was loath to admit that she hadn't been thinking of that during their time together. Regardless of the fact that Harry had explained exhaustively to the Ministry and the wizarding world at large that Severus Snape acted as he did in order to defeat Lord Voldemort, there were those people that flatly refused to believe a word that even The Boy Who Vanquished The Dark Lord said regarding the matter. In any case, it seemed that Severus was expecting such people and thought that Neville would be one of them.

"I returned here—to the UK—fully expecting some sort of violence against me once it got out that I was alive, and considering your defiance your seventh year, I thought you might like the opportunity to get it out of your system," Severus said, sounding almost _bored_. "Not that it would be undeserved in the least, of course. So if you please. Do try to avoid killing me, though; you'll have Hermione to answer to if it comes to that."

To Hermione's horror, he took a step back and spread his arms, welcoming any sort of attack that Neville might have launched at him. Neville stared in confusion, his eyes going from Hermione to Severus as he clearly attempted to make sense of what Severus was asking of him.

And there suddenly there was the flutter of Neville's earthy brown robes and the flash of Neville's fist and suddenly Severus staggered backwards with a soft grunt, clutching at his eye. A gasp of shock left Hermione's lips, but Severus made no sound and said nothing as he leaned against the wall while he regained his balance. It only took a moment for him to straighten up, lowering his hand from his face as he did so to reveal his squinting and watery left eye. He gave Neville an expectant look, inviting him to continue, but Neville was frozen in place, his fist clenched at his side and his eyes still wide as they silently stared each other down. Hermione watched them furtively, feeling almost like an intruder in a private and silent conversation.

Finally, Neville turned away, exhaling as he did so. "Harry cleared up a lot of things about you, and I trust Harry," said Neville, giving him a sidelong look. " _That_ was for being such an ass during Potions."

A fleeting look of surprise flashed across Severus's face before his lips spread into a smirk. Which, of course, seemed to horribly confuse Neville again, prompting him to give Hermione a pleading look, begging her to explain. "He's…friendlier now, I suppose," Hermione said, smiling.

"That's me, your friendly neighborhood Potions Master," he said gravely. Hermione couldn't help but let out of a snort of amusement.

"Then how did you meet? You said Hermione… _found_ you?" Neville asked. The deer-in-the-headlights look had returned to his face.

"I had a…portkey accident at work; that's why I was gone for a few months," Hermione said. "Ended up right in front of his house. And don't ask how—it's classified information." Well, not quite: she hadn't yet explained to the Department _why_ she had ended up in Hawaii, but she probably shouldn't be explaining things so openly in the middle of a Hogwarts corridor.

"Oh, I see…" said Neville, his face falling a bit. However, he quickly recovered and flicked his wand at the shattered lantern, catching it as the pieces flew back together and into his hands. "Well, I've got to get the Devil's Snare back to the greenhouses. Will I see you later?"

"We might stay for dinner. I'll see you then, okay?" she said, smiling.

They watched as Neville rekindled the flame in his lantern and gathered up the Devil's Snare, which attempted to hide from the lantern by shrinking under his arm, before he nodded to them and continued on his way. "Are you all right?" Hermione asked, gently cupping his cheek in her hand and peering into his left eye, stroking the skin under his eye with her thumb. The skin around his eye was turning red and would likely be a purplish bruise before the day was done.

"It's nothing. I'll be fine," he said, smiling and leaning into her hand. She loved these moments when he dropped the calculating and sarcastic exterior and let his decidedly softer self peek through—if even for a little bit.

"Well, shall we?" Hermione said, returning the smile and feeling her cheeks turn a little pink at Severus's gesture.

"Let's. Hopefully, Madam Pince won't throw a fit if she sees me."

"Oh, stop pretending. You know that you'd love it."

* * *

"No no no no, absolutely _not_."

"But you did the job so well for years—"

"And I hated every one of those years. _No_."

"But we're having such trouble finding a replacement for Horace, and you're the best candidate—"

"I _would_ be a candidate, if I was, in fact, applying for the position. How quickly you forget your promise to let me live in peace, Minerva. Teaching is _not,_ in any way, shape, or form, peaceful."

"I haven't forgotten. I just thought that _perhaps_ you might consider the idea."

"Did you think I _enjoyed_ it? Trying to teach and keep all the Slytherins happy?"

"But, you see, you won't have to do that any longer..."

Hermione sat quietly with Neville as they watched Severus and McGonagall argue back and forth over the small table set up in McGonagall's personal quarters. Professor McGonagall had the bright idea of suggesting that Severus return to his former position as Hogwarts Potions Master and once again train young minds in the art of brewing potions, and of course, that simply opened up a can of worms—a veritable Pandora's box. As soon as she even _insinuated_ that he take up teaching again when Horace Slughorn retired, he had let loose a verbal barrage the likes of which Hermione hadn't seen in ages. But McGonagall was equal to him: she countered everything he threw at her and Hermione sensed that maybe she enjoyed it—after all, she and Severus had done a lot of that sort of thing before the war took a turn for the worse. Hermione had a vague feeling that Professor McGonagall was intentionally goading him; perhaps Severus was not the only person who had changed over the years.

As far as Hermione was concerned, she didn't care either way what Severus decided—all she really wanted was for him to be happy doing whatever it was that made him happy, and at this point, it was obvious that teaching was quite far down on the list of things that made him happy. She busied herself with finishing the delicious black pudding that the Hogwarts elves had cooked up as Neville helped himself to some treacle tart. It was only the four of them eating together, as only Neville had run into Severus earlier (apart from Madam Pince, but she was hardly in any mood to have dinner with them) and McGonagall had decided it would be best to keep Severus's presence unannounced.

"So did you find what you needed in the library?" Neville asked Hermione lightly in a thinly-veiled attempt to avert his attention from Severus's and McGonagall's argument as it suddenly took a turn toward a recent transfiguration journal that they had rather differing opinions on.

"I hope so…Professor McGonagall gave me permission to borrow a few, so I didn't read them on the spot," Hermione explained. "What about you? How have you been?"

"How about this, Severus?" McGonagall said, her voice suddenly raised. "Since you are such an _expert_ in transfiguration, why don't you take the transfiguration post and I'll send Denham to teach potions?"

"I don't understand why you want me to teach so badly, Minerva," Severus said in exasperation. Then suddenly he froze, as though having some sort of epiphany. "Could it be that you… _miss_ me here, Minerva?"

"Honestly, Severus? There is nobody with whom to argue about Quidditch."

"You want me to return to teaching…so that you'll have someone to _argue_ _with?_ "

There was a long silence.

And suddenly, startling both Neville and Hermione, McGonagall and Severus burst into cackling laughter.

* * *

Nothing—there was _nothing_ in the books Hermione had borrowed from the Restricted Section. Granted, between her and Severus, they'd only gotten through two of them that night following their Hogwarts visit, but if those books were any indication, they would be no better off figuring out what happened to Angela Villar than when they had started. As she poured herself a cup of coffee and returned to her dining table, where the five books she'd brought home were stacked beside her plate of buttered toast, she let out a sigh. She began to wonder if it was really some sort of severe memory modification that had stricken Angela, rather than any sort of beyond-the-impossible Muggle-to-witch conversion.

If that was the case, then what of Severus's claims that her mind felt like a Muggle's mind? That it was full of numbers and computer code? What sort of wizard would have the sort of detailed knowledge about those things to _fill_ her mind with it?

She paused a moment to clear her mind and take a sip of coffee. It would be easy to just return all the books and go about her life as normal now that the Ministry had custody of Angela. She was under no obligation to help her, really—she'd just been the one who happened to run into her in Diagon Alley. But that felt all wrong…Angela had absolutely no idea about _anything_ , and it felt akin to throwing her to the wolves to just turn away and continue on, especially with all the suspicious Hit Wizard movements and Sinclair's escape.

Well, she supposed she should just go to work this morning and see if anything odd was going on. And, if the clock on her wall wasn't lying about it being nearly nine o'clock, she would be late if she didn't get a move on. "Severus, are you going home today?" Hermione called into her bedroom—or at least, she tried to. She'd stuffed the last of her toast into her mouth, so it mostly sounded like a lot of muffled noises.

"Weren't you ever taught to not speak with your mouth full?" said Severus, emerging from the bedroom with his hair damp and a rather disgruntled look on his face. Whenever he was in London, either because of the time difference or because he hated being in Britain, he always seemed a little irritated in the morning if he did not wake before her.

"I said, are you going home today?" Hermione repeated once her mouth was clear of toast.

"I think I might stay and look through the last of the books while you're at work," he said as he took a sip of coffee from her mug.

"I see. Are you just going to wait for Danny, then?" she asked as she pulled her jacket on. Danny had sent an owl late last night saying that he might have news for them and would drop by if Severus didn't meet him at his place.

"I will. He'll likely be here soon."

"Sounds good. See you later."

After giving Severus a quick kiss on the cheek, she took her tin of Floo powder and threw a pinch into the fire blazing in her fireplace, calling out for the Ministry Atrium as she stepped into the green flames.

She almost thought that she might have mispronounced the name, because instead of the roomy Atrium she was met with an enormous horde of people clamoring about something or other, until she realized that she _was_ in the Ministry Atrium and there was some sort of stage set up in the middle of Atrium before the restored fountain. She turned to the nearest bystander to ask what the hubbub was all about and was met with a confused shrug.

"Not sure, but they've been blocking the lifts for about half an hour," said the man. "I heard them going on about showing the world something or other. Sounded like a load of rubbish."

Thanking the man, she turned and stood on her toes in an attempt to see over the crowd. She caught sight of some surly-looking security guards standing in front of the golden gates leading to the lifts, and when she turned to look at the stage, noticed that the Hit Wizards that had taken Angela from her home were guarding the stage from the irritated employees clamoring for them to call off the guards so that they could get their work done.

A bad feeling began churning in the pit of Hermione's stomach. The Law Enforcement Squad should have put down whatever this protest—or what she assumed to be a protest—was all about, since they were being quite disruptive, but the fact that the security personnel and Hit Wizards were doing the opposite of dispersing this crowd was quite troubling. She did her best to push through the crowd in an attempt to get closer to the stage and found herself face-to-face with Brian Stockton, the Hit Wizard who had _led_ the little expedition to take Angela from her home.

"Mr. Stockton, what's all this about?" Hermione demanded, grimacing as she was jostled by the crowd. If she wasn't mistaken, Stockton looked _pleased_ to see her.

"You'll see soon enough, Ms. Granger," he said calmly. "I expect they'll be out shortly."

"Who? Who will be out?"

But she got nothing more out of Stockton, regardless of the increasingly inflammatory things she said to try and provoke him into letting something slip. The bad feeling in her stomach was getting worse; anxiety was beginning to spread through her body and she felt restless, as though she ought to be doing something but wasn't. Her instincts were telling her that something bad was coming, and the anticipation of what that bad thing might be was maddening. Her mind immediately went to her friends: what were Harry and Ron doing right now? Were they in the crowd like she was, or had they been able to get in before the gates were sealed off? What about Severus? While he could take care of himself, she still worried that he might be attacked in her home…

And finally, after a long ten minutes spent in the tight, pulsing crowd, something happened.

A tall man in a long, deep red robe Apparated beside Stockton with a _CRACK_ that was nearly lost amid the din of the crowd. He had a long face with smartly cropped silvery hair and a pointed gray beard to match. Hermione could only see the back of him, but when he turned to give Stockton a nod, she saw his eyes—small but wide open, as though trying to take in as much of the scene as possible. As he walked up the steps and onto the stage, she noticed that he walked with his head held high, as though he had some great announcement for them all—

"If you'll all please settle down and pay attention, we can begin," boomed this man's deep voice. The sound was almost deafening, his voice echoing wildly off the walls of the Atrium. It seemed that he too was caught by surprise by the thunderous volume of his voice, because he quickly flicked his wand and cleared his throat. "My apologies," he called into the crowd. "The Atrium's acoustics leave much to be desired."

An unintended consequence of the earsplitting sound was that it had shocked the crowd into silence: they were all staring wordlessly at the man on stage, all presumably waiting for him to say his piece so that they could get on with their work day.

"For any of you who do not know, my name is Rene Mortin and I am formerly of the Wizengamot and the Department of Mysteries," he said. A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, and Hermione herself couldn't keep from making a noncommittal sound in realization: this man, Rene Mortin, had been missing for over a month and Harry himself had put a team out to find him.

"I've come here before all of you today so that I may share with you all something that will change how we wizards and witches look at the world around us. You may all be acutely familiar with the rapid decline of births of magical children. Our world, liable to collapse from underneath us and our ways, disappearing…Surely that thought has gone through each of your minds." Mortin looked through the crowd and seemed pleased when it drew a murmur of assent from the crowd. "And, though I am ashamed to say it, we still have those people holding on tightly to the concept of pure blood—I know you're out there—and still others that believe us, wizards and witches, to be inherently different from our Muggle cousins. Superior, even?"

At that, the people stuffed in the Atrium grew angry, and Hermione could hear the heated shouts of people comparing him to You-Know-Who—to Lord Voldemort.

"Allow me to continue, if you will," Mortin said, holding up his hands. When the crowd was quiet enough to satisfy him, he continued. "I don't mean to say that I hold these beliefs. Far from it.

"We are not so different from our Muggle brethren. The culmination of several years of research proved just that: there is but a switch, to grossly simplify it, that determines whether a human child will be born a Muggle or a wizard—something embedded deep in our genetic code, and, if we stretch our understanding of it a little bit, our very souls. And, up until recently, we have not been able to touch this switch, either with Muggle science or magical means."

Hermione could sense realization beginning to spread through the crowd and could feel them beginning to fidget behind her.

"Now, if you please, Mr. Sinclair, please bring out our guest."

Her stomach clenched when Sinclair— _that_ blasted Sinclair—appeared beside Stockton with a reverberating _CRACK_.

"Let go of me! Let go! You promised I could go home if I could do those things!"

It was all Hermione could do to keep from running forward when Sinclair began dragging a struggling Angela up the steps of the stage. It seemed she was oblivious of the people surrounding the stage until she was actually standing on it: when she realized that a crowd of people were staring wide-eyed at her, she stopped struggling and froze, clutching her wand close to her face for lack of anything more substantial to hide behind.

"My name is Folgian Sinclair, and I'd like to introduce my friend here, Angela Villar," said Sinclair with that same irritating self-satisfaction that he showed back on Severus's beach. Angela shot him a dirty look when he gestured at her with a flourish of his hand. "Tell everyone what you do for a living, Miss Villar."

"I—" said Angela meekly, nervously casting her eyes over the sea of onlookers. "Erm…I'm a software engineer."

The crowd rippled with confusion, which only seemed to please Sinclair. "And where did you attend school? Tell these nice people what you studied," Sinclair continued.

"Uni—University of California in Berkeley. I—I studied computer science."

"And who else, friends, would study computers and work as a software engineer?" Mortin said. "It's likely that most of you are unfamiliar with computers and never heard of such occupations like software engineering. Am I wrong?"

There were angry shouts of "Hey, I have an electric mail!" and "We use that friend face!" but these, unfortunately, only exemplified Mortin's point.

"My point is that this woman, up until recently, was none other than a humble Muggle."

Hermione felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. So she'd been right—Angela had been a Muggle. But how— _how_ was this even possible?

"You keep saying 'Muggle' this and 'Muggle' that around me, but you never told me what that means," said Angela, quietly at first but her voice quickly gaining volume but getting lost in the indignant cries of "Prove it!" and "Prove she was a Muggle!" from the surrounding crowd.

"Very well, we'll prove it, shall we?" said Mortin, nodding to Sinclair. The latter nodded pulled out a flask filled with an inky purplish liquid.

"You, you're in the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, right? You should be familiar with potions," said Sinclair, pointing at a wizard near the stage. "Please verify for me that this is indeed a genealogy potion. You can test it on your own parchment if you like."

It seemed that all the people in Atrium were holding their breath as the wizard nervously took the flask and swirled it around. After a moment, he pulled a scrap of parchment out of his briefcase and let a few drops of potion fall onto it before handing the flask to his neighbor to hold while he took his wand from the inside of his robe. He hesitated slightly, before muttering something and wincing—it seemed he had used some sort of spell to prick his finger and was letting the little droplet of blood fall onto the parchment. Hermione couldn't see from where she was standing, but it seemed the people around him were _ooh_ -ing and _ahh_ -ing at the parchment he was holding, presumably because it was indeed a genealogy potion.

"Right then, now that we've gotten that taken care of, someone give me a piece of parchment," said Sinclair, who had briefly hopped off the stage and snatched the potion away before anybody could think to break the flask. He seemed to get a few mutinous glares from the people around him and a couple murmurs from elsewhere in the crowd that he was wasting their time, but he nonetheless got a piece of parchment from someone and climbed back onto the stage. He practically slathered the parchment in potion before putting the flask down and snatching Angela's hand, pricking her finger with the same spell the Reversal Squad wizard had used and wiping her finger across the parchment before she could pull her hand away.

From where Hermione was standing, she could see black letters and lines blossoming on the parchment until the entire sheet was covered. With a wave of his wand, Sinclair enlarged the parchment until it was enormous and visible for most of the closest people to read, and Hermione could see Angela's entire family tree going back several generations, with each and every name in the tree (including Angela's own) marked distinctly with the word "Muggle." The crowd nearly lost it at that point, and Hermione felt truly worried that she might be crushed with all the furious movement going on.

"Quiet!" Sinclair bellowed, though it wasn't enough to quell the riotous crowd. "QUIET!"

The crowd finally fell into a reluctant silence after Sinclair's magnified voice thundered through the Atrium. "That's better," he said, smirking. "Now, Angela, show them what we've taught you. Use your wand."

"Um…which one do you want me to do?" Angela asked, her eyes nervously flitting from Sinclair to the bristling crowd and back.

"Do the easy one for now."

Angela looked once more to the crowd, quite obviously worried that someone there might suddenly attack her, before raising her wand. " _Lumos_ ," she said firmly, and a light flared up on the tip of her wand. Despite her unease, a smile flashed over her features, pleased at her success, but it quickly faded when the crowd seemed to pulsate with indignation.

"Now the other one. Use it on me," Sinclair said.

"Er… _wingardium leviosa_ ," said Angela, swishing and flicking her wand at him and causing him to hover a few feet in the air. After a moment, she seemed to grow worried. "Wait, how do I make this one stop again? Errrr... _finnit!_ I mean, err… _finite!_ " Sinclair immediately fell from the air and landed lightly on his feet.

"And so you see, everyone? We've finally developed magic to _induce_ magic in Muggles. They were able to do it all along—they just need a little push. And conversely, we can _take magic away_ ," said Mortin pleasantly, which was in stark contrast to the furious crowd below him.

Immediately, there was silence. Hermione thought she could hear the beating of a thousand hearts echoing throughout the Atrium.

"Yes, I can prove it to all of you," Mortin said, still as pleasant as could be. "Mr. Conrad, please bring out our other guest."

A lean man that Hermione didn't recognize Apparated into the space beside Stockton, clutching the arm of a short, struggling woman with a black bag over her head. He had some trouble dragging the woman up the stairs and had to turn and conjure ropes to restrain her arms before he could finally get her onstage. "My apologies, Rene, she's kind of a handful," said the man.

Hermione frowned when she heard his accent. This man, who had a friendly face that might have been appealing in any other setting, was an American. Conrad pushed the bagged woman none too gently across the stage so that she stumbled and nearly fell flat on her face, and then in a fluid motion, Vanished both the bag and the ropes on his captive.

Dolores Umbridge blinked at the sudden light and let out a tiny squeak of surprise when she realized that she was in the Ministry Atrium and was surrounded by Ministry employees. This was the first time Hermione had seen Umbridge since the end of the war: though she'd been released from Azkaban the previous year, she still looked gaunt, her skin sallow and her hair, once adorned with cutesy ribbons, hung limp on her head. The years in Azkaban had tightened the skin on her once slack face, which, if anything, only exacerbated her toad-like appearance.

Conrad reached into his robes and pulled out a wand, handing it to Umbridge with a smile. "Here you go, Dolores," he said lightly. Umbridge snatched the wand from Conrad's hand, glaring daggers at him.

"I demand to know what this is about! I've done nothing to merit such treatment!" she shrieked, glaring from Conrad to Mortin, who simply ignored her and nodded to Sinclair.

"All right, Umbridge," said Sinclair, stepping forward. "I dare you to curse me. Go on."

Umbridge bristled with rage, but made no protest and jabbed her wand at Sinclair.

Nothing happened.

"Wh-what?" she sputtered in surprise. She jabbed her wand again with the same result. A faint reddish flush was beginning to creep up her face as she jabbed the wand at Sinclair more forcefully. " _Stupefy! STUPEFY!"_ She let out a strangled sob. " _Petrificus totalus! Tarantallegra! LUMOS!"_

The silence in the Atrium was suffocating and the tension almost palpable as Umbridge sank to her knees, her bulgy eyes fixed on her unresponsive wand.

"Wh-what have you done to me, Mortin?" she said weakly. "What have you done…?"

"You're little more than a Squib now, my dear Dolores," Mortin said coldly, all the congeniality gone from his voice and his contempt for her coming across clear as day. "Fitting, isn't it? You, who accused Muggle-borns of stealing magic and looked upon them as little more than _dirt_." Suddenly, his face made a rather jarring transition back into general pleasantness. "And so you see, everyone, how this changes everything— _everything_ —about how we look at ourselves. The very design paradigms of our society will change, and it is my _sincere_ hope that you all will not fight it."

Mortin seemed generally unaffected by the glares being directed at him from the crowds and, if Hermione was reading his expression correctly, he even looked happy that he was riling them up. It was clear that they would not go quietly—it was obvious they would fight, if only to resist changing a system that works well enough. Once more there were murmurs, accusing him of being no better than You-Know-Who—but the comparison was flimsy at best. There have been no reported casualties, no genocide, _nothing_. If anything, Mortin and Lord Voldemort were polar opposites, and it wasn't even clear if Mortin desired power for himself or if he was working for someone else…

"But I—but _how?_ Is this—is this Dark Magic?" Umbridge said, looking uncharacteristically defeated with tears in her eyes. Hermione almost felt sorry for her, the victim of what could be seen as poetic justice.

"Almost" being the key word here.

A very smug and very worrisome smile spread across Sinclair's face and, a split-second later, he turned his gaze directly on Hermione—her blood ran cold as their eyes met, and the only thing going through her mind was " _not good not good not good…_ " He threw his arms wide to play up the drama and almost gleefully said, "No, this isn't Dark Magic at all. It was developed and refined using portkey magic and potions. There's nothing Dark about portkeys."

 _Not good. Not good._ Definitely _not good._

"In fact, it is thanks to Hermione Granger's excellent portkey research that we were able to do this today. You have my thanks, Miss Granger."

Sinclair met her gaze again and bowed deeply.

_Fuuuuuuck._

Hermione could feel what seemed like everyone's eyes turn on her, and they were like daggers—murderous, as though she'd somehow betrayed them…

And as though to dig the knife deeper and perhaps twist it around a bit, Sinclair squatted down on the edge of the stage to peer at her with that smug face of his—the face she'd like nothing more than to pummel with her fists.

"Tell me, Miss Granger," he said loudly, his voice echoing off the Atrium walls, "how is Severus Snape these days? He's not still spewing blood everywhere after what I did to him, is he?"

_Fuck._

"You know what to do, Stockton."

There was a short silence that seemed like an eternity to Hermione, before there was an explosion of noise and movement. Hermione felt herself getting crushed by all the people, her ears ringing from all the shouting, and saw Stockton raise her wand toward her, his mouth beginning to form the beginnings of _Avada Kedavra_ —

But she was faster than Stockton and Stunned him before he could get _Avada_ out of his mouth. Immediately, she leapt forward toward the stage, shooting a Stunner at Sinclair and diving into the space beside Stockton's limp body, thinking desperately of her home without looking up to see if her Stunner had connected with Sinclair. After plunging into the dark space of Apparation, she stumbled onto her balcony and threw open the door, flinging herself over the threshold.

"Hermione! What's wrong?"

She hardly noticed Severus pulling her upright as she redoubled the anti-Apparition jinxes protecting her home, ignoring the horrific pain in her arm. "You splinched your arm!" came his horrified voice as she cast what protective charms she could. It was then that she dared to hazard a look at her arm—she nearly fainted when she found her jacket sleeve in tatters and soaked in blood from the great gashes oozing blood along the length of her arm. He was quick to act and ran the tip of his wand along the gashes so that they partially closed, stemming the flow of blood slightly as she struggled to remain upright.

"We have to go," she gasped, her eyes clenched tight against the pain. "They're coming—this is not good—"

Suddenly, there was the sound of splintering—two Hit Wizards had appeared on her balcony and were attempting to blast the spell-reinforced glass of the door away. Hermione felt Severus gather her up and lift her off her feet, and she heard Danny's voice screaming, " _You go! I'll hold them off!_ "

There was the blaze of flames, Severus's voice calling out, "London Portkey Terminal!", and the rush of the Floo…

Sirens were blaring throughout the terminal, and through her rapidly blurring vision, she could see security personnel bearing down upon them. Hermione feebly shot a pair of stunners at the approaching guards while Severus looked around wildly for any portkeys that might be scheduled to leave. There was a terrible lurch as he twisted on his heel and dove for one several feet away, squeezing between some bewildered travelers and grabbing the soda can as he breathed into Hermione's ear, " _Stun them, stun them, hold them off for three minutes—_ "

He shifted her in his arms to free up his wand arm and give her room to hold the can, and between them, they shot spell after spell at the approaching security guards. Severus managed to successfully restrain one in a full body-bind and was holding off the other with a barrage of tile fragments he had blown off the floor—

There was a sickening lurch as Hermione felt the portkey hook her behind her navel and whisk her through the portkey space she had become all too familiar with, and just when she thought that the horrific spinning would never end, there was a bone-jarring _thud_ as she and Severus landed roughly on concrete in a bright plaza. She groaned as an agonizing pain shot through her mangled arm and hardly noticed when Severus helped her to her feet and picked her up again.

"Wh-where are we?" she whispered, clutching his shirt tightly as her arm throbbed unbearably.

"Seoul," he muttered into her ear as he quickly headed for some sort of overhang behind some trees, a slight limp in his step.

"Where are we going?"

"Don't speak. We're going away from here. There's a— _damn!"_

Hermione felt herself falling as Severus was suddenly wrenched out from underneath her, and she fell to the ground on her splinched arm, unable to keep an agonized scream from escaping her mouth. She heard Severus firing off spells as he crawled toward her, and when she managed to crack an eyelid open through the pain engulfing her, she saw two British wizards running right for them, blasting terrified Koreans away and diving for Severus as he found her wrist and clutched it tightly—

The feeling of Apparition surrounded her, squeezing her tightly so that her arm screamed in pain—but this Apparition was far longer than she'd ever experienced, and she thought she would suffocate in the horrifying, tight space—

Finally the squeeze loosened and she immediately vomited on the forest floor that she suddenly found herself on, and amid the sounds of her own retching, she could faintly hear Severus doing the same. But through the sounds of vomiting, she heard the screams of a man somewhere nearby. There were the sounds of scuffling, and when Hermione managed to focus her vision, she saw Severus pinning the British wizard from the Seoul portkey terminal to the ground, his wand at the man's throat and a hand pressing down on the man's thigh near the bloody stump where he'd splinched his leg.

"Who sent you?" Severus snarled as the man screamed in agony. " _Why are you tracking Hermione Granger?_ "

" _Rene Mortin, Rene Mortin!_ " the man screamed, his voice cracking as he writhed underneath Severus's body. "He's trying to mess up the Ministry! I don't know! They said to kill her! _Stop! Stop!_ "

Hermione grimaced as the man howled in pain. "Why do they want to kill her?" Severus hissed, his nose inches from the man's face.

"I don't know! _Please_ , I'm just a lackey, I don't know anything!"

Severus growled in frustration and Stunned the man in a flash of red light. He got off him and crouched a moment beside his unconscious body, his face contorted into a scowl, before he suddenly remembered Hermione and scrambled over to her. " _Hermione_ ," he breathed, resting her head on his knees as he examined her splinched arm. He began muttering a healing spell, his voice low and soothing, and Hermione felt the deep gashes in her arm slowly closing as the blood smeared over her skin receded into the open wounds.

A deep calm began spreading through Hermione as Severus healed her arm. Though she couldn't explain why, she felt at peace lying in his arms on that forest floor, and a tiny voice in the back of her head told her that everything would be fine if she just stayed there with him forever…

"Hermione? Hermione, stay with me. Focus. _Stay with me_."

But she couldn't hold off the darkness that was beginning to fill her mind. She couldn't say no to the voice—everything about it seemed right…

There was a faint _whoosh_ , and suddenly the darkness receded from her thoughts. She opened her eyes and found Severus's phoenix Patronus hovering nearby and Severus's worried face looking down at her. "What happened?" she asked, slightly confused by both the sudden clarity in her mind and the mercifully less painful throb in her arm.

"The forest was taking you. The Patronus will help."

"The forest…? Wh-where are we?"

"Aokigahara Forest in Japan."

* * *

_A/N: Hmm...this one was longer than normal too. We'll see how that goes. Haha._

_I feel like Snape is drifting out of character...Then again, sticking him on a beach was probably wildly out of character in the first place. I'll try to tighten it up. Hopefully this actiony stuff will help. XD Also, I'm kinda curious about the interest level of this fic...I've realized that most people seem to congregate around the romance ones. Is this how it is, or am I woefully wrong? Hahaha. Oh, and speaking of Snape in character...I have an old fic I was writing a couple of years ago called "Marked," where you'll have your classic-ish snarky Snape. It's in my profile if anyone's interested, but there's no romance and there's also an OC, so it might put people off. XD  
_

_I've been sick all week...Please make sure to tell me if I've missed any proofing. My mind's kind of_ _foggy_.

_**Ninja edit:** I originally wrote Umbridge as a different male character, so there were a few gender-confused pronouns hanging around._


	5. Coerced Into a Suit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies for the cringy Japanese.

"The forest…? Wh-where are we?"

"Aokigahara Forest in Japan."

The Patronus hovering at Severus's side flickered once, as though it was laboring to stay intact. Hermione felt her chest tighten up as she looked up at Severus's worried face. They were in Aokigahara?

The very same Aokigahara where he had intended to die alone?

"Severus…Severus, are we going to die?"

Her eyelids were drooping—she felt an incredible need to sleep.

"What? No, no, we're not going to die," said Severus hurriedly, gently rubbing her cheek with his palms in an effort to keep her conscious. "We won't die as long as you focus and stay with me. Can you sit?"

She took a few deep breaths to force the pain of her splinched limb out of her mind, before she nodded. Slowly, he eased her upright and helped her lean against the base of a tree as she cried out from the sudden throbbing in her arm. Though he had managed to partially close the wounds and keep her blood from oozing out, the pain was unbearable. "We have to stay here for a while so you can rest," said Severus quietly as he removed his shirt and used his wand to tear it into neat strips. "But they'll have trouble finding us in here—they won't know how to cope with the forest."

Hermione could hardly speak as he carefully detached the torn sleeve hanging around her splinched arm and began wrapping it in the strips of his shirt. "This should help for now until we can get to a town," he said as he gently draped a makeshift sling across her shoulder and underneath her arm.

The Patronus flickered again before dissolving into the air.

She was suddenly very aware of the silence permeating through the forest and the eerie light filtering through the thick canopy. When Severus had spoken of this forest, she hadn't understood what he meant by it being unnaturally silent, but now it was clear. There were no chirrups of birds in the distance, no sounds of wind rustling the foliage…She could have heard the sounds of an ant creeping along the ground, if she had felt like there were even any ants in the first place. The forest felt like a deserted diorama that was long forgotten and so devoid of life that it was as if animals dared not live there.

The quiet began creeping into her mind, silencing her racing thoughts. The forest was eerie, sure, but it was beautiful and it might not be so bad to stay here…

"Hermione, wake up. You have to wake up."

With a start, she wrenched her eyes open, her heart pounding in her chest as she gave Severus a bewildered look. "Sorry—I can't make a Patronus in here anymore," he said, slight resentment in his voice. "We'll just have to stay awake until you've rested enough to move."

"I don't think I can Apparate right now."

"No…it wouldn't be a good idea after the distance we just Apparated," said Severus heavily, turning to her and wiping some lingering vomit off her chin with a remaining strip of cloth. "We're fortunate that we only threw up and didn't get splinched as well."

"How far are we from Seoul?"

"Over six hundred miles away, I believe."

Hermione suddenly felt the urge to throw up again but managed to hold it down. Apparating became exponentially more difficult the further away the destination, so the amount of sheer determination Severus must have had to get them across the Sea of Japan was mind-boggling; he truly was a remarkable man. She leaned in closer against his arm and gave him a weary smile.

"Thank you, Severus. You are…amazing."

"No, I…" he trailed off in that uncharacteristically tentative way that Hermione didn't often get to see. It was obvious he was quickly composing his thoughts before a small smile appeared on his face. "This will sound trite, but I just…want to keep you safe."

He shifted and slowly pressed his forehead against hers. She could feel it, the hidden meaning underneath his words: he had failed at protecting his love the first time, so this time— _this time_ —he was trying with all his might, with enough determination to cross entire seas to keep her safe. She did feel safe that he was there with her, and it was a profound comfort to know that even if she did get killed in all of Rene Mortin's madness, she wouldn't have to face it alone.

"Severus…I—I love you."

She felt his eyelids flutter open and found him staring directly into her eyes.

"You're confessing your love in the suicide forest?" he whispered, his mouth turning up into a smirk.

"I just—thought you should know," she said, and if she hadn't lost so much blood already, her face would have been tinged red. "I'll—I'll just keep it to myself next time, shall I?"

"Shut up."

She wanted to rebuke him for his audacity, but couldn't get a word out considering that he'd pressed his lips against hers. And really, who was she to complain that he was kissing her? It might have seemed strange, two weary and injured people kissing in the middle of a forest renowned for its suicides, but that was the farthest thing from Hermione's mind at the moment. She reveled in his touch—in the weeks that they'd been together, she had never wanted to hold him and kiss him and do whatever the hell else as she did right now, with her arm splinched and soaked with blood and the both of them smelling vaguely of vomit.

"You—you really are aroused by battles, aren't you?" Severus breathed into her ear when they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily as he held her head close, his fingers tangled in her hair.

"Did you think I was lying?" Hermione said sarcastically, shutting her eyes and giving a faint laugh as she recalled the conversation they had on the beach.

' _I suppose love can bloom even on a battlefield, though to think Hermione Granger would be the type to be aroused by a battle…'_

"We shall have to risk our lives in battles more often, then."

They sat together in silence for a few minutes or a few hours—Hermione wasn't sure. "Are you feeling well enough to move?" he asked eventually, pulling away from her and gently removing his fingers from her curls.

"I think so. Do you know how to get out of here?"

"Unfortunately, no. We'll need to Apparate, but it won't be far…maybe a few miles, not seven hundred," he said as he got to his feet and hooked an arm under her shoulder. "Ready?"

Hermione breathed in sharply as he lifted her onto her feet. The makeshift sling helped immensely—now that her arm wasn't hanging limp at her side, it didn't throb so badly. She took a moment to steady herself and, when she was confident she wouldn't collapse, she nodded to Severus. He drew in his breath and closed his eyes to concentrate, and a few long moments later, they were standing in another part of the forest where the trees were much less dense. It was only then that she realized how suffocated she had been feeling earlier—now she felt as though the air was fresher, and she could breathe more freely.

"I'm sorry, this is as far as I can get us for now," Severus said, giving his head a small shake. "The forest makes it difficult to get out, but we're close to the outer edge."

"What about the man that followed us?" Hermione asked as they slowly walked on. Though her legs were wobbly and felt like jelly, she had a surprisingly easy time walking.

"I closed his wound so he should be fine, though I don't expect his leg can be reattached anymore," he said with a dark laugh. "It's his own fault if he doesn't have the presence of mind to stay alive long enough for a ranger to find him."

"So where will we go? I imagine an alert has gone out for all the major portkey terminals."

"I know somebody in Tokyo. It _has_ been nine years, though…If we're lucky, he'll still be there."

They walked until the sun began dipping down toward the horizon, and Hermione was worried that night would fall before they got out until they caught sight of a sign with official-looking Japanese written on it. "This is it," said Severus. "We're almost out."

"Can you read the sign?" Hermione asked as they hobbled by. He glanced at it for a moment before giving a small shrug.

"I can't read Japanese very well, but it says something about life being important and trying to reconsider."

"There are _signs_ trying to get people to reconsider?" said Hermione incredulously. Severus let out a quiet laugh.

"It's no joke that this place is a popular place to commit suicide."

The calmness and silence in Hermione's mind slowly began to recede the closer they got to the end of the forest, and when they finally found what appeared to be a worn path at the tree line, she felt that she could finally think properly again. Severus hadn't exaggerated when he first described the forest to her—it really was as though the forest had been trying to keep her there by impeding her ability to second-guess herself. The thought was frightening; if Severus hadn't insisted that she stay awake, would she have ever woken up again?

"Oh! Oi oi oi, _daijobu?_ Hello, are you okay?"

A patrolling ranger had emerged onto the path in the distance and was running toward them, calling out in an incomprehensible mix of English and Japanese. "Hello, what happen? You are okay? _Kega—_ er, hurt? You are hurt?" said the ranger breathlessly when he finally reached them. He was eyeing the bandages wrapped around Hermione's arm, which were now soaked through with blood, and she imagined that they _probably_ didn't look like they were coming from a pleasant hike through the forest.

"Hiking—er— _haikingu shite_ —er, lost— _mayotte shimaimashita._ Fell— _kega shita—_ er _—shimashita_ ," said Severus, his brow furrowed as he struggled to produce the right words. Hermione was actually quite surprised that he still remembered any Japanese, considering that he'd been gone for nearly ten years. Did he practice in his free time, perhaps?

"Okay, okay," said the ranger, nodding. He gestured down the path from where he had come from. "I take you back. _Byouin ni ikimashou_ —ah, hospital! We go hospital."

The ranger turned to lead them off, and suddenly Hermione felt a squeeze and found herself standing in an empty alley as nausea began creeping up from her stomach, and the ranger (or the forest for that matter) was nowhere in sight. "Not a good idea," said Severus, panting slightly as he gave his head a shake. "Foreigners with no passports…they'd detain us for sure. Better not to deal with it."

"Wait…but won't he be wondering about us?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Oh, I imagine he'll rationalize it as us being spirits of the recently deceased," he said, giving a wry laugh. "Now, if we are where I think we are, the back door of an apothecary should be here somewhere..."

It seemed that Severus's memory was impeccable—he quickly found the door he wanted and was knocking on it in no time. They waited, breath bated, for a response, but minutes passed with nary a sound. He knocked again—still nothing. It wasn't until their fifth try that the door finally cracked open to reveal an irate, middle-aged man ranting in Japanese. He immediately froze when he saw Severus, the man's eyes slowly traveling up until he met Severus's gaze. Confusion was evident in his face, and judging by the way he squinted, it was clear he was trying to remember just who this person was…

"Seberus! Ahhh, _hisashiburi da ne!_ " he exclaimed, putting a hand to his forehead. " _Haite, haite!_ _Ah, sochira wa…?_ " He gave Hermione a passing glance as they crowded into the small storage area that was beyond the door.

"Hermione. Ah… _Haamaioni_ ," Severus said slowly. Hermione cringed at his pronunciation, but the man at the door did the opposite and seemed entirely enlightened by it.

"Ah, _hajimemashite. Morioka Kouhei desu_ ," said the man to her, bowing. When she could only give him a bewildered stare, he nodded in understanding. "Speak only English? My name is Morioka Kouhei. Please to meet you."

"H-hello. I'm Hermione Gr—Hermione," she said, unable to decide whether to bow or to shake his hand and ending up doing both at the same time. Severus might have the right idea withholding her last name from this Morioka person; while her first name was rather uncommon, having her full name thrown around might make it easier to be tracked.

" _Kouhei_ —dittany _aru?_ Hermione _wa spurinchi shita kara..."_

It was as though Severus's words electrified him: he immediately realized that Hermione's arm was covered in blood-soaked bandages and let out a sound of either surprise or understanding as he disappeared through a doorway on the far side of the room. He was back no less than a minute later, holding a vial aloft and handing it to Severus as he ushered them toward a different doorway, presumably urging them along in Japanese. The room past the doorway turned out to be a small break room of sorts with a worn sofa and a small table, at which Morioka pulled out a chair and gestured for Hermione to sit before hurrying out of the room.

Severus gently nudged her into the chair and waited for her to put her arm on the table before removing her sling. "It will sting," he said quietly as he slowly began unwrapping the bandages.

And god damn, did it sting. The blood had dried a bit in some places and was making the bandages stick, pulling at the skin around the gashes from the splinching and making her arm throb with a horrible pain. The stinging of the dittany made it about five times worse, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming (though she couldn't stifle the whimpers escaping her throat or the tears welling up in her eyes). But when the stinging finally subsided, she found the gouges in her arm closed enough that the bleeding completely stopped and the pain wasn't worse than a vague soreness.

"Better?" he asked, giving her one of his rare, honest-to-goodness smiles as his face relaxed in relief. She couldn't help but return the smile in kind.

"Much better."

" _Tomodachi_ …?" said Morioka, who had reappeared holding a tray laden with a teapot, cups, and bread and was eyeing Severus almost gleefully.

" _Garufurendo_ ," he said simply, which only served to incite Morioka further. What he said to Severus next must have been some sort of cheeky quip, because Severus snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You drink gureen—er—green tea?" asked Morioka as he poured tea into the handle-less teacups and pushed one toward Hermione.

"Oh yes, of course!" she said quickly, smiling nervously and taking the cup. He pushed the tray of bread toward her as well.

"Try it. Inside is taste good."

As she busied herself with the tea and bread (which had a delicious red bean filling), Severus and Morioka were talking about something or other in Japanese. It seemed Severus was having a bit of a difficult time, but Morioka's English proved to be rather poor when it involved phrases more complicated than offering food and tea. From what Hermione could gather, they were simply catching up on old times, though she did hear the word "yakuza" and "tattoo" get thrown around a bit before Morioka left to get Severus (who had been shirtless since the forest) a spare shirt. When he returned and they continued their conversation, Hermione wondered if perhaps Morioka was where Severus had gotten his new fashion sense from—the shirt had a cat print designed similarly to the penguin ones that he was so fond of.

Hermione nearly spilled her tea when Severus suddenly stood up, glaring at Morioka.

"No! Absolutely not! What do you take me for, Kouhei?" he snarled, eyes blazing. When Morioka replied and cackled gleefully, Severus sank back into his seat and gave a deep sigh. He didn't move or speak for a few moments, before slowly turning to fix Hermione with a look so despondent that she immediately worried if Morioka had sentenced him to his death.

Well, no, Severus wouldn't look so sad if he were faced with death. Perhaps something worse than death?

"What's wrong?" Hermione ventured, putting a hand on his arm.

"Kouhei says I owe him a favor if he's going to let us stay with him. He says there's an alert out at the portkey terminals and the walls are papered with our faces."

Coercion, is it? Well, that doesn't sound good…

"What is it?"

When he turned to give Morioka a dejected look, Hermione realized had never seen his eyes look so _imploring_ before. What in the world had Morioka asked for that was making Severus look so utterly hopeless?

" _Sebu, garufurendo da ne?_ Hermione _-san_ _no tame ni nandemo suru beki da ne?_ " said Morioka, his eyebrows raised in a way that Hermione wasn't sure she liked.

"Right, right…" said Severus, sighing again. At this point, Hermione was feeling rather alarmed.

Did he want Severus to murder someone or something?

* * *

The outwardly friendly Kouhei Morioka turned out to be a sneaky little bastard and advised Severus that, unless they wanted to get turned in to the Japanese wizarding authorities, he should put up with the one little thing that he wanted. It would only last a few days, he said, after which he wouldn't threaten them about it again. One of his employees was out sick and he wanted ever so much to test the waters with someone British. And because Severus was, even in Japan, notorious for having a short temper and anger issues, there was apparently no other way than to threaten him.

And considering what Morioka wanted from Severus, Hermione quite agreed.

He had muttered furiously for a few hours, first about how Morioka only owned an apothecary ten years ago and was a respectable potions brewer, next about how Morioka was going senile at the ripe old age of 53, and finally about why in the _bloody hell_ that bastard Morioka now owned a butler café in Akihabara.

Though Hermione had to admit that Severus did look dashing in that butler outfit with half his hair pulled back into a ponytail.

One of the young men that worked at the café was out sick and Morioka had decided to test his grand theory that Japanese witches looking for a brief reprieve from work and life would love to have someone British serving them. That morning, Severus had argued doggedly and tirelessly that he was much too old to be masquerading as a butler in a café, but Morioka had simply called in the woman that worked in the kitchen to work some makeup magic on him. By the time she was finished, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find that the venom scars on his face were expertly hidden and he looked like he could have been in his mid-thirties. Not that he looked that old before, of course, but he did have a sort of weathered face due to his ordeals in the war. The woman had also conjured a pair of fake glasses and insisted that Severus wear them.

"Is it good?" the woman asked Hermione. "Sebu-san looks…hot?"

The glare that Severus had shot her was priceless.

 _Oh, if Harry and Ron could see him now_.

Because her arm was in no way ready to be helping in the kitchen, she was sitting at a table obscured by a large fern in the far corner of the café and had a good view of the festivities while she pored over some maps of Eastern Asia. Harry's Galleon sat beside her teapot: she had managed to modify the spell on it to make it a two-way Galleon, but she was hesitant to test it until she was recovered enough that she and Severus could make an escape should their little Galleon communication network be compromised. But, judging by how she was feeling now (her arm was still aching and nausea drifted in and out), she would probably be fine within a day or two—just long enough for Severus to finish working the café for Morioka.

Likely due to his enduring skill in deception from his years as a spy, he had effectively become a completely different person so as not to give Morioka a reason to turn them over to the authorities. He was so incredibly accommodating and so incredibly gentlemanly (as Morioka had instructed him) that the longer Hermione watched, the more she wanted to roll around the floor in a fit of laughter. The customers seemed quite taken with him and more often than not had to pause in surprise when they found him towering above their small forms. But they quickly got over their surprise and Hermione watched in complete amusement as they made googly eyes at him. She might have been jealous if she was the jealous type, but she found the situation more hilarious than anything.

Morioka had told Hermione, with some difficulty, that many Japanese were somewhat reluctant to use English, and that he hoped Severus's distinctly British tongue would help them along. From what she could see, Hermione rather thought it was working. As broken as their English was, whenever Severus replied, the look on their faces suggested that they'd love nothing more to keep saying words that would keep him talking. Many of them blushed profusely and tittered like idiots whenever he complimented them on something mundane like their hair or shirt, and they particularly liked the trick he had learned from a maid café where he made tea-pouring exciting by swirling the tea in the air with his wand.

"I didn't know you could be such a ladykiller," Hermione said, grinning as Severus wearily sat down with her to take a lunch break.

"I am going to _murder_ Kouhei," he grumbled, angrily sipping at the tea she had pushed toward him and pushing the fake glasses up the bridge of his nose. "This is all a bit too close to a host club for comfort…"

"It's only for today and tomorrow," she said in the most mollifying tone she could manage (and carefully avoided asking what a "host club" was in case it upset him more). She pat the maps that she had laid out on her table. "Mr. Morioka said that security might be lax if we leave from smaller portkey terminals. He suggested leaving from somewhere in China or Vietnam under the effects of Polyjuice."

Her words had the desired effect of distracting Severus from his bristling indignation. "I see. That sounds…too easy," he said thoughtfully, drumming his fingers against his teacup. "Are you capable of creating international portkeys?"

"I don't know enough about the destinations to make a good one, and then there are the international regulations to deal with," said Hermione with a small sigh. "But, considering they're already acting like we're criminals, we _could_ throw caution to the wind and do it anyway."

They were distracted by Morioka peering out of the kitchen doorway and beckoning for them to come inside and eat lunch. He spent some time teasing Severus about how the customers loved him ("Why make potion? You work here, you are good butler. Right, Hah-mione?" he said, cackling), and said something to Severus that seemed to increase his irritation tenfold (" _Atarashii mise o akete, hosuto kurabu da to omou yo. Ii, ne?_ "). Hermione was about to ask him to stop when he turned his attention on her and started trying to teach her Japanese. She got as far as " _watashi wa_ Hermione _desu._ Severus _wa ira-ira desu_ " before it was time for Severus to go back to butler-ing.

Hermione didn't think any more hilarity could ensue that day when she returned to her table in the corner, but it did. It really did. There was a small group that Severus was serving, two girls and two boys, that Hermione had expected to be like the other groups that dragged boys inside—that is, the girls giggled along while the boys tried their best not to look uncomfortable—but one of the boys at the table kept shooting Severus the same googly eyes that the girls were and seemed _quite_ interested in the things that Severus had to say. As Severus swept by on his way to the kitchen, Hermione flashed a grin at him and received in return a look of mingled rage and helplessness.

By the group's second hour there, Hermione slowly began recounting all the defensive spells she knew, just in case Severus snapped and she needed to protect the customers. But he seemed as pleasant with them as ever and looked oddly blank the last time he passed by her—she wondered if he was perhaps using Occlumency in order to keep some semblance of control over his frustration. When they finally left, his entire body seemed to sag in relief as he took a seat at her table for a break.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly. He didn't answer for a few moments and simply sat there with his eyes shut.

"You're fortunate that I love you," he muttered finally, opening his eyes and smirking. "Otherwise, there's not a chance in bloody hell that I would have done this."

"Why thank you," Hermione said, grinning. "So I suppose I don't have to be worried about you running off with a cute Japanese girl, do I? Or a cute Japanese boy like that one behind you?"

He twisted in his seat in horror and found that the young man from the earlier group was standing shyly some ways away from him, his face tinged red. "Ah, what can I do for you, Masao-kun?" said Severus pleasantly, straightening his glasses. This action seemed to fluster the Masao kid and it took him a few moments to find his words.

"Ah… _ano_ …is okay if…er… _ashita_ —tomorrow—is okay if I come back?" he asked. Hermione had to take great care not to violently choke on her glass of water too conspicuously and not to smile too widely at the poor boy.

"Of course," Severus said, smiling at the boy. "I—er—look forward to it."

"Ah! Oh…ah…thank you! _M-mata ashita!_ " said Masao, looking both relieved and delighted and bowing repeatedly before hurrying out the door. Hermione could hear his friends laughing at him from outside as soon as he left.

"So…looks like you've got a fanboy," Hermione said lightly.

Severus slowly turned to face her.

"I swear…I am going to _kill_ Kouhei."

* * *

_A/N: Last update, I was worried about Snape being all OOC-ish. This update, I'm totally over it and decided to go for the outrageous. Why the hell not?_

_When I finally get to Japan, I figured I'd try out these so-called butler cafés. From what I understand, they're not as prolific as maid cafés, but they do exist. Y'know, maybe I should draw Snape in a butler outfit. Anywho, the bit about the yakuza and tattoos is because of the stigma they have in Japan against tattoos. I guess only yakuza-types have 'em._

_In any case, here's the translation of the Japanese used in this chapter. I figured it'd be easier on you guys if I wrote it in romaji, but I'll include Japanese text here for the curious folk who maybe want to learn or something. : D_

* * *

"Hiking—er— _haikingu shite_ —er, lost— _mayotte shimaimashita._ Fell— _kega shita—_ er _—shimashita…"_ ("Hiking—er—ハイキングして—er, lost—迷ってしまいました. Fell—怪我した—er—しました…") = "Hiking—er—did hiking—er, lost—ended up losing our way. Fell—got hurt…" (it's a lot of blithering about hiking and getting hurt)

" _Byouin ni ikimashou_ …" (病院に行きましょう) = "Let's go to the hospital…"

"Seberus! Ahhh, _hisashiburi da ne! Haite, haite! Ah, sochira wa…?"_ (セベルス! あぁぁ、ひさしぶりだね！入て、入て！あぁ、そちらは…?) = "Severus! Long time no see! Come in, come in! Ah, and this is…?" (I admit this one gave me some trouble…not sure what word people use to tell people to come inside if you're not a shop employee. Someone correct me.)

"Ah, _hajimemashite. Morioka Kouhei desu."_ (ああ、はじめまして。守岡浩平です) = "Ah, nice to meet you. I'm Morioka Kouhei."

" _Kouhei_ —dittany _aru?_ Hermione _wa spurinchi shita kara..."_ (浩平、ディタニある？ハーマイオニはスプリンチしたから…) = "Kouhei—do you have dittany? Hermione splinched…"

" _Tomodachi_ …?" (友だち…?) = "A friend…?"

" _Garufurendo."_ (ガールフレンド) = "Girlfriend."

" _Sebu, garufurendo da ne?_ Hermione _-san_ _no tame ni nandemo suru beki da ne?_ " (セブ、ガールフレンドだね？ハーマイオニさんのために何でもするべきだね？) = "Sev, she's your girlfriend, right? Shouldn't you do anything for Hermione-san?"

" _Atarashii mise o akete, hosuto kurabu da to omou yo. Ii, ne?_ " (新しい店を開けて、ホストクラブだと思うよ。いいね？) = "I'm opening a new store. I was thinking of a host club. Good, eh?"

" _Watashi wa_ Hermione _desu._ Severus _wa ira-ira desu._ " (私はハーマイオニです。セベルスはイライラです。) = "I'm Hermione. Severus is irritated."

" _M-mata ashita!"_ (また明日！) = "See you tomorrow!" or if you like this better, "Until tomorrow!"

* * *

_Anywho, I don't claim to be an expert in Japanese, so don't hesitate to correct me. XD_


	6. A Clearer Picture

**Sixth: A Clearer Picture**

Hermione knew that maybe—just maybe—she shouldn't be enjoying this as much as she was. They were essentially fugitives, merely biding their time until she was sufficiently recovered to leave Japan, so that alone should have put a damper on things. But no, she was having quite a lot of fun in spite of the pain in her splinched arm, despite the fact that the fun was at poor Severus's expense.

She just couldn't get over the sight of him wearing that butler outfit and the fake glasses.

A camera would have been delightful in this situation (and she could have easily borrowed Morioka's cell phone to take a photo), but she probably shouldn't push Severus too far in case he snapped and decided to kill everyone in the room. Thankfully for him, Morioka's sick employee would be back the following day, so Severus would only have to endure one more day as a butler before he'd be off the hook. Since he would probably never do it again without asking for something (probably disproportionate) in return, she let herself relish the outfit and the ponytail.

She also deeply relished the sight of him trying gallantly to keep calm while waiting on that cute little Masao boy and his friends.

It seemed to be something that happened often at Morioka's café—that customers would return just to see one of the employees again—and according to Nathan, the nice American gentleman working there, it was becoming a more common occurrence on par with a host club. He had even lent her his phone so that she could look up what a host club was and suggested she read a manga series about one.

Hermione had to be very careful not to spray the man's phone with tea when she found out what exactly they were, and it was all she could do to keep from bursting into raucous laughter. She wondered if Severus would get more tips for flirting with his customers and had to redouble her efforts to stifle her laughter—the very idea of Severus flirting with complete strangers for money...If she allowed herself a moment to overthink things, it could almost be some sort of karmic retribution brought upon him by some particularly sadistic deities intent on having him make amends for his past social indiscretions.

When the amusement at Severus's predicament wore off, Hermione busied herself with their current, more pressing dilemma: that is, the fact that they were thousands of miles away from Britain with no reasonable means of getting back home without hijacking an international portkey or an international Floo connection. She played with the idea of Apparating in small hops across Asia and back to Europe, but it would be incredibly risky considering they've never been to the places they would be Apparating to. It would be relatively easy to get out of Japan and back into Korea if they Apparated from Fukuoka and into Busan (which Severus had visited once in the past), but to Apparate across all of Asia?

They also entertained the idea of not returning to Britain at all and trying to figure things out from the United States. Severus was reasonably certain that Danny would have made it out of her flat in one piece—or at least, in about the same condition as Severus and Hermione herself—and was probably already back in Hawaii trying to figure things out. Judging by the involvement of that American Conrad fellow back at the Ministry, it was clear there was some level of cooperation between Mortin's mystery group and another group across the pond and they would likely not be wasting time if they were to investigate things on that end. However, it would be a bit of a feat actually getting back _into_ the US, but it seemed to be about the same level of difficulty as returning to Britain.

There was also the relatively simple solution of forging passports and taking an airplane. It wouldn't be too hard to bypass the nominal magical security measures meant to deter magical terrorists or the like. The only problem with that was they would be walking right into enemy hands should they be discovered on the plane, and they would be surrounded by Muggles, which would only add to the list of potential offenses that Mortin could try and arrest them for. And Disapparating from a moving object going as fast as a plane…While she was reasonably certain it would work, she didn't want to risk the potentially horrific splinching that would happen if they made even the tiniest mistake. That and the cracking sound of Disapparition might frighten the passengers—considering the terrorism scare the Muggles went through some years ago, producing loud cracking noises in a full 747 was _probably_ not a good idea.

Hermione slowly turned the fake Galleon in her hand as she watched Severus with Masao and the two girls with him today. She couldn't quite hear what they were talking about, but she thought she heard "surfing" and "backflip" somewhere in there and spent a few moments wondering if he was, in fact, capable of doing a backflip. Masao and his friends looked completely rapt by whatever it was Severus was telling them, which was apparently backflipping while surfing if Hermione heard the girls's blithering correctly.

" _Sugoi_ , Sebu-kun, you can do many things!" Masao said breathlessly.

Severus's face had that oddly calm Occluding look about it as he replied. "I suppose that might be the case," he said, a placid smile on his face. If Hermione hadn't known any better, she might have thought he was high or something. It made her wonder if he went to Death Eater meetings with that face and she let out a snort of amusement imagining him smiling like that in front of Lord Voldemort while giving his report.

"But really, enough about me. Tell me what things you and your friends do, Masao-kun," said Severus, straightening his fake glasses and eliciting a suppressed giggle from the girls.

"You know, he's pretty good at this," said Nathan, standing beside Hermione's table for a quick break. "I think the girls like him better than Ryuuichi because he's foreign."

"Ryuuichi is the one out sick?" Hermione asked.

"Yep."

"So how did you get into something like this? This butler café," said Hermione after a short silence. Nathan let out a laugh and shrugged.

"Dunno, Morioka-san put out an ad for foreign guys to work at a café, so I applied. It wasn't exactly what I expected at first, but it works," he said, smiling. "I was originally teaching English to some wizards that needed to work with foreigners, but I think I like this much better. It beats talking to angry Japanese men. Anyway, I'd better get back to work." He flashed Hermione another smile before leaving to greet a pair of girls that just arrived.

Hermione glanced back at Severus and his groupies, absently pushing Nathan's phone around the tabletop as she watched.

_Hang on a tick. Duh._

Here she was worrying about getting tracked via experimental two-way Galleon when she could just _call_ Harry on a phone. While the wizarding world was slowly integrating more Muggle technology into wizarding society, the number of magical people that actually bothered to learn and use said technology was woefully tiny. In all likelihood, they would never think that she would simply give her friend a ring—it was probably not even a possibility to them. But she hesitated a moment; Mortin might have the foresight to see she might call and seemed technologically aware enough that he might have someone monitoring phone lines…

…Still, it was a worth a shot. It would be better than exchanging tiny messages on a Galleon that she wasn't sure would even work. Besides, she was feeling well enough to fight off whatever Hit Wizards might come her way (unless Mortin decided to send the whole Hit Wizard department), even if her arm was still confined to a sling while she recovered.

She couldn't wait to tell Severus her brilliant plan to use a phone and was profoundly relieved when she found Masao and company waving goodbye to the still-placid Severus. As soon as they were out the door, he turned on his heel and made for her table, a look of mingled horror and relief on his face. "And finally, they're gone," he said with the air of someone who had seen unspeakable horrors as he wearily slumped into the chair across from her. "I'm convinced that Masao is smitten with me."

"Oh, it's quite obvious that he is," Hermione said lightly as she tried not to grin too widely. "Anyway, I have an idea."

"Oh? Regarding?"

Hermione told him her magnificent telephony plan and he sat there in silence for a moment. "That actually might be a good idea. Half the fools working at the Ministry probably don't even know how to _use_ a phone," he said, giving a small chuckle before glancing at a clock on the wall. "It's nearly lunch time. Kouhei did mention that nobody was taking much notice of the portkey warnings, so it likely wouldn't hurt anything if we went out to buy a phone card and get some lunch. Nobody will recognize me with this getup and I imagine if you tie your hair up, you'll be fine as well."

With her hair tied into a bun and after letting the woman in the kitchen know that they would be gone for a bit, they left through the kitchen and emerged into the alley behind the café. "We should probably eat first," Severus said, gently nudging her toward the end of the alleyway. "I'd hate to be killed on an empty stomach."

This was the first time Hermione was able to walk among the people since their unceremonious arrival in Japan and she was struck by how crowded the area was. Apparently they were in a small section of Akihabara in Tokyo that was similar to Diagon Alley and was just as busy. Severus paused for a moment to survey the area before taking her hand and leading her through the gaggles of people to a small stall crammed between a small, official-looking building and some sort of grocery store selling magical fruits the likes of which Hermione had never seen before. Severus paused a moment in front of the stall, reading some of the signs beside it and on the adjacent buildings, before nudging her toward the stools.

There was nothing quite like having a bowl of ramen while sitting along a busy street. She worried a little at first that they might be recognized, but they hardly garnered a passing glance from the people pushing past each other as they continued on with their lives. And then, as she was slurping up the last of her noodles, her eyes fell on the easily overlooked sign above the door of that official-looking building beside them and the uniformed man standing at the door.

交番

KOBAN | POLICE

" _Severus_ ," she sputtered, nearly choking on her noodles. "We're eating lunch beside the _police_?"

"I purposefully wanted to walk by the police station," he said nonchalantly as he finished off the rest of his broth. "I get the feeling that they're not making that much of an effort to look for us outside the portkey terminals. I didn't see any photos of us anywhere inside and the man on duty hasn't even looked this way the entire time we've been here."

"Sneaky bastard," said Hermione, unsure whether to be amused or irritated but smiling nonetheless.

"I would have thought there'd be a mass panic if word got out that it was possible to remove magical ability," Severus said as he watched her eat.

"You're right. Unless they're just biding their time, there must be some sort of catch," Hermione murmured thoughtfully.

"I imagine the magic required to remove or induce magic is powerful, and often the most powerful magic is unwieldy to use without proper preparation. Perhaps that is the catch."

That made a whole lot of sense, but Hermione also suspected that and was really more interested in what the catch actually was. For the life of her, she couldn't think of how her portkey research had helped Mortin and friends achieve what they did. The notes on prolonging the time in portkey space that Sinclair had Richard Thompson steal prior to the accident that sent her to Hawaii were incomplete and did not include her latest conclusions on the nature of the portkey space. What did they find so useful in those notes that they were able to use a portkey to remove magical ability from Dolores Umbridge? However, Mortin had mentioned that he was formerly of the Department of Mysteries; while Hermione couldn't recall ever hearing mention of his research, there was no telling what secrets he may have been able to combine with her own.

When she finally finished the ramen and Severus had paid, they left the wizarding street and into the city to buy a phone card from a convenience store. She rather enjoyed the walk—while crowded, it was exciting to be in another country so different from her own. The vending machines and little capsule machines were of particular interest to her: all sorts of things were being sold in them—even several different kinds of beer—and the capsule machines had all manner of cute little figurines. Nearly all of them were immaculate and untarnished and it made Hermione wonder if the Japanese even knew how to vandalize things. The convenience store itself was fascinating as well—the hot foods and boxed lunches there looked absolutely delicious compared to the dismal sandwiches she might find at a convenience store back home.

"You know Potter's number, I hope?" said Severus when he directed her toward a phone booth a little ways down the street.

"I think so," she replied as she stepped in, frowning a moment as he crammed himself into the phone booth after her, surreptitiously casting _muffliato_ on the booth as he closed the door. It was a bit of a tight fit and she found herself pressed between him and the phone. "Won't we look weird like this?"

"Oh, I think we'll be fine. Besides, I quite like it in here," he muttered into her ear, slipping his arm around her waist as he pushed the phone card into the phone. "Dial 010 first, then 44 for the UK."

After a bit of fumbling with the numbers—she had to start over about three times because she kept putting the wrong area code in for Harry's land line—she let out a sigh of relief at the sound of the phone ringing. She hoped that someone would answer—it was after midnight back in Britain, but the sense of urgency creeping around her mind didn't want to wait for a more reasonable time.

"… _Hello?"_

Hermione was slightly surprised that Harry had answered so quickly, but more so that he sounded more perplexed than sleepy.

"Harry—it's Hermione."

" _Hermione!_ Merlin's _—are you okay?"_

"I'm fine, don't worry. Splinched a bit of my arm trying to escape, but it's fine now. Severus is here with me. Why don't you sound sleepy?"

" _Lily woke me up a bit earlier. Anyway, I'm glad you're okay. When I went to investigate your flat, it was a wreck."_

"Wait…is Danny okay? He was there with Severus before we managed to escape to the portkey terminal."

" _Danny went into hiding in Hawaii. Mortin has some deep connections with the MBI—they're out looking for him pretending that he attacked some Muggle's home. I met with him in Hawaii, actually—we recovered Angela in the confusion and had her stay with him."_

"That's a relief. How are things at the Ministry? Has Mortin made a move?"

" _You know, that's the odd thing. I thought that after his show with that Muggle and Umbridge, loads of people would start showing up de-magicked. I know it's only been a few days, but the only other people that turned up were Lucius Malfoy and another Muggle—one from Dublin this time. And he's since disappeared. The Ministry is in a right mess, though. Some are in denial and others are scared out of their wits."_

"He got Malfoy?" said Hermione in surprise, and she felt Severus's fingers clench slightly on her waist. She was slightly more sympathetic toward Malfoy than with Umbridge, but the key word there was "slightly."

" _Yeah. I almost feel sorry for him. Anyway, where are you now? Magical Transportation told me you grabbed a portkey to Korea before they could seal off all the departures."_

"Mortin's lackeys followed us there, so Severus Apparated us to Japan."

Harry whistled in awe. _"All the way to Japan? Incredible."_

"We've been trying to think of ways to get back home, but Severus's friend says the portkey terminals have our faces all over them."

" _About that: they probably don't care all that much. The Ministry tried to put out an alert, but you know it's like pulling teeth to get any sort of international cooperation short of Voldemort announcing that he'll attack them. Listen, using a portkey and Polyjuice or using the Floo should do the trick as long as you avoid coming back to Britain for now."_

" _Avoid_ going back to London?" said Hermione incredulously. She heard Harry laugh at the other end.

" _Yeah. I was thinking…it might be dangerous, but if you could help Danny investigate what's going on in the States while I investigate here, we might reach a conclusion faster."_

That was actually quite a good idea. It had been bothering her that Mortin had an American lackey (or partner?), so perhaps they would be able to find something there. "Sounds good. Do you know where Danny is?"

" _We didn't meet at his safe house, but I understand that Severus should know where to find it._ "

"Okay. We'll head over there as soon as we can. Thank you so much, Harry."

" _Hey—I'm just glad you're all right. Contact me via Galleon once you're there."_

"Oh! The Galleon!" Hermione said suddenly, jumping a bit and feeling Severus tighten his grip around her waist, as though to keep her from jumping again. "I tried to modify mine to allow for two-way communication. I didn't want to test it quite yet, and I wasn't sure if yours required the modification as well."

" _I see. I'll try to send you a message with mine later, and I'll try to modify it if it doesn't work._ "

"Great. Thanks again, Harry."

" _Don't mention it. Be careful. Good luck."_

* * *

"You're quite cheerful about this whole on-the-run thing."

"This is hardly being on the run. They're not even _trying_ to find us."

"I suppose not." She let out a giggle and swatted Severus's hand away. "That tickles."

He chuckled and did it again so that, in her fit to escape his tickling fingers, she slipped off her seat and onto the tiled floor with a loud _splat_. She glared at him as she got back onto the little stool, though he simply laughed at lathered up the washcloth a little more.

After they had confirmed a portkey was scheduled to leave for Los Angeles the next morning and confirmed that Morioka had a suitable amount of Polyjuice Potion back at his apothecary—and since this was Japan and all—Severus had the bright idea of taking a bath together. So here she was in Morioka's lovely bathroom while Severus washed her back—she felt rather self-conscious at first, but Severus had been so blasé about it all that she stopped caring as well. The bathroom was quite different from what Hermione was used to: it was more of a walk-in shower with a large, deep tub in the corner. The tub was deeper than she was used to and its sides were much straighter than the sloping walls of the tubs back home. Apparently the tub was only for soaking, which was why they were presently sitting on little stools while they cleaned themselves.

"I would have taken you to a public one, but there aren't any mixed-gender ones that either Kouhei or I know of here," Severus said as he handed her a little bucket so that she could rise the soap off.

"A public one? Don't you think that's being a little _too_ reckless?" Hermione said, sloshing water over her back and taking care to splash him in the face a little. "And what do you think I am, some kind of exhibitionist?"

"It's not exhibitionism if everyone is doing it," he said, smirking and shaking the water from his face. She rolled her eyes and prodded his side to get him to turn around.

"Two days in the country is not enough time to get comfortable with being naked in public."

Hermione lathered up her washcloth and turned on her stool to soap Severus's back in return, but frowned when she saw a huge bruise decorating his lower back, the purple blotches looking rather gruesome against his significantly lighter skin and its faded venom scars. "This bruise…" she said softly, gently running her fingers over it. He glanced at her over his shoulder and shrugged.

"A gift from one of those Hit Wizards. It's nothing to concern yourself about—it's a normal bruise."

She wasn't sure if it was the sight of him injured because of her or that he was so unbothered by said injury, but she suddenly had the urge to hug him, so she did. "Thank you for everything," she whispered, leaning against his damp back and resting her head on his shoulders. She frowned when she felt his shoulders move in a silent laugh. "What's so funny?"

"I didn't realize you could be so maudlin."

"Why, you—"

In a fit of mild irritation, Hermione began prodding him incessantly and found, to her immense delight, that he jumped when she poked his lower back, right above his buttocks. "Oh, so you _are_ ticklish," she said, her mouth spreading into a devious grin.

Before Severus could grab her hands, Hermione had let loose and was mercilessly tickling him until he was an uncharacteristically flailing mess on the bathroom floor, attempting to grab her wrists but failing when they simply slipped out of his grasp. "For god's sake, woman, stop it!" he gasped, finally managing to get a good grip on one of her arms.

"That's to get you back for all the tickling you did back home," said Hermione huffily, prodding his stomach and watching his chest heave as he tried to regain his breath from her assault.

"This was _revenge?_ " he breathed, laughing incredulously. "You'll have to do much better than that."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Oh, I intend to."

* * *

_A/N: I apologize for the incredible delay. This was one of those in-between chapters that I had no idea how to end, and I've been in a terrible mood for the past few weeks because of some personal issues that are embarrassingly emo. I was feeling really discouraged up until last week…hopefully I don't descend into emo again for a while._

_Ahem._

_Anywho, hopefully the next chapter will be more entertaining for you guys, since the action will start up again. And again, please tell me about any typos I might have missed. I hoped to entertain you all with a bath scene since I was lost and confused. I hope it was mildly entertaining. Also, tickling. D:  
_

_Sorry for all the fail. : (_

_A koban is a police box type of dealio—a small building/office where police officers hang out. Also, there are apparently still phone booths in Japan. I found pictures. XD_


	7. Stateside

**Seventh: Stateside**

The plan was actually quite simple.

Or perhaps actually quite _stupid,_ Hermione wasn't sure which.

While Severus had been slaving away as the (unwilling) temporary star of the butler cafe, Morioka had been so kind as to do a little research into the security alerts going down around the portkey terminals. He found that despite the ruckus about two highly dangerous and belligerent British fugitives, the actual security measures in place were trivial at best. There were no spells in place to remove Disillusionment, nor a wash to remove the effects of Polyjuice Potion, nor any sorts of identity verification. In fact, it was as though they weren't even _trying_.

And so the plan, in its simplified form, went as follows:

1\. Drink Polyjuice Potion

2\. Take portkey to Los Angeles, California

3\. ???

4\. Profit

The plan was, truthfully, a _little_ more complicated than that.

They didn't want to risk taking a portkey directly to Honolulu since whoever was pulling the MBI's strings would surely expect them there if they were to meet with Danny. Instead, they would take a portkey to a _slightly_ less obvious terminal: namely, Los Angeles. And it was there that Danny had agreed to meet them before taking them to Honolulu via unauthorized portkey rather than just leaving them to find their own way to the safe house. Both Severus and Hermione had their misgivings about relying on portkeys to take them anywhere, but Harry had relayed Danny's assurances that domestic portkeys were more easily... _fudged_...than international ones.

Still, it certainly was a much simpler plan than say, taking a portkey to Long Beach, California and stowing away on a Hawaii-bound cruise ship, then Apparating from the ocean once they were in Apparating range of Hawaii. Or risking severe splinching by Apparating across Asia to places they've never been to. Or flying across the ocean on pilfered broomsticks or magic carpets.

This left her with the justifiable worry that they were walking into a massive trap. She tried to do as much research as she could on Los Angeles and the surrounding area in case it really came down to Apparating away from potential assailants, but she deeply hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Sure you want to go?" Morioka asked despondently as he watched Hermione and Severus packing their emergency supplies into small bags. "Seberus is a good butler."

"I'm afraid Japan just isn't ready for me, Kouhei," said Severus dramatically. Hermione took a brief break from her bag to glance at him.

"Oh? In what way?" she asked, letting out an amused chuckle before reaching for her tea.

"I'm just too fabulous for Japan, you see."

_Hrrkkkhhh._

_God dammit,_ Hermione thought irately as she wiped tea off her chin.

Morioka let out a laugh, but it was obvious by the look on his face that he was still quite disappointed. Hermione supposed that it was just that Severus had shown _such_ potential...

She put the last of their emergency supplies into a small purse and zipped it shut, sitting back with a sigh of relief. Morioka had graciously provided them with food and medical supplies as a gesture of thanks for Severus's butlering, so they were well prepared in the event of potential starvation or severe injury. Which Hermione hoped would _not_ be the case, but she knew it would likely be so if past experiences were anything to go by. Still, she had the utmost faith in their abilities — while not overconfident by any means, she was sure that they would be able to scrape by so long as they weren't greeted by an entire squad of Hit Wizards or Aurors or the like. In any case, Severus looked perfectly calm about it all, if not downright _nonchalant_ as he sipped his oolong tea. It had the lovely effect of calming Hermione as well; despite her confidence in their abilities, she would have anxiously gone over each detail of their entry into the US if not for Severus's contagious nonchalance.

They sat in relative silence — the three of them busy with tea or pastries or newspapers — until finally Morioka stood up. "Ready?" he asked.

He didn't wait for them to nod before disappearing into the corridor leading to his store room, returning moments later bearing a tray with two flasks of what was ostensibly the Polyjuice Potion that would conceal them for their trip. As he set the tray on the table, Severus took a pair of vials from his pocket — hairs plucked from the heads of an unsuspecting Muggle couple passing by in Akihabara. Hermione had watched him take the hairs and had noted, with some amusement, that he had waited until a man of sufficient height was available as a... _donor_. She wasn't sure if it was because he worried that the rather smaller Japanese men would make his clothing look ill-fitting, or if he did not want to be quite so short.

Severus emptied each vial into a flask and, to Hermione's relief, it appeared that the two Muggles had been nice people, as the resulting potions both appeared to be relatively innocuous. Not quite like the Polyjuice Potion with Harry's hair in it, but then again, not many could compete with the golden heart of Harry Potter. "Shall we?" asked Severus, handing her the flask containing essence of Muggle woman.

"Let's," she said, stamping out any hesitation lingering in the back of her mind as she raised the flask to her lips and quickly took a sip.

This Polyjuice Potion wasn't anywhere near the disaster that Bellatrix Lestrange's was — in fact, Hermione thought that it tasted pleasant, with a hint of jasmine. Still, it was a disconcerting experience to see her skin bubbling and changing, no matter how many times she'd already done it. Happily, it didn't take long for the potion to finish its work, so when all the bubbling and stretching and shrinking finally stopped, she glanced at her reflection in the small hand mirror that Morioka thrust at her. A weary-looking but bright-eyed Japanese girl peered back at her.

"Wow, Hermione," Morioka said, grinning, "Seberus pick a good one for you." She laughed and cast her eyes over towards Severus, who was eyeing Morioka with slight disdain. Which, to Hermione's amusement, Morioka returned. "Pick better next time, Seberus. Ugly, ne?"

She stifled a laugh as Severus bristled indignantly. He didn't pick out the most _handsome_ man, but what did it matter as they were only going to have these bodies for a couple hours at most. Still, the man Severus had changed into had a goofy 90s haircut and a face that, in spite of Severus's severe expression and the way he crossed his arms, made him look silly — as though he was trying entirely too hard to frown. "You just picked this man because he was almost as tall as you, didn't you?" she said, allowing herself the tiniest smirk.

"Because of his height? Of course not. I am a vain man — I had to pick a Muggle worthy of my beautiful visage," said Severus without skipping so much as a beat.

This combined with the silly expression of trying-too-hard-to-be-serious was too much for either Hermione or Morioka: the pair of the burst out into raucous laughter.

Wordlessly, Hermione and Severus nodded to him and got to their feet, Hermione shouldering her little purse and Severus his little courier bag (which contained an identical set of supplies to Hermione's as well as an adorable penguin print on its front flap). They followed Morioka to the entryway of his home, where he waited for them to pull their shoes on before firmly grasping an arm each. Hermione was slightly apprehensive of the impending Apparation considering her recent run-in with moderate (but still horribly painful) splinching, but she forced it from her mind. There would be no splinching going to the Tokyo Portkey Terminal. Nope. None. She refused to ever splinch again.

"Okay. We will go now," said Morioka brightly.

There was the all-too-familiar squeeze and an explosion of noise as Hermione found herself standing in the designated Apparation zone of the bustling Tokyo Portkey Terminal.

Well, that was easy.

As she followed Severus and Morioka to the information board to find where their Los Angeles-bound portkey would be, she couldn't help but marvel at the terminal itself. It was obvious that the terminal had been renovated with the modern aesthetics of a Muggle airport in mind, but it was infused its own sense of magic: elegant but minimalist koi murals slowly undulated along some of the walls as though they were silhouettes of koi behind a screen, and though Hermione wasn't too well-versed in Japanese architecture, the ticket counters and support pillars had a decidedly traditional flair. Near the foot-traffic entrance of the terminal was a beautiful, flowing water sculpture of a cherry tree covered in blossoms, the gentle sounds of the water flow drifting throughout the terminal. She deeply wanted to examine the terminal in detail — a modern blend of form and function that she felt the magical facilities in Britain lacked — but she supposed it would be best to come back when she _wasn't_ a fugitive.

"Is that our portkey?" Hermione said incredulously.

A large and round penguin plush sat atop a pedestal labeled "LOS ANGELES."

"Ah yes, finally we'll be traveling in style," said Severus, the slightest hint of glee in his voice. Hermione rolled her eyes.

It looked to be a rather full portkey: as the departure time approached, more and more people began congregating around the penguin plush and soon it was obvious that they would all be standing shoulder to shoulder with each other. All the better, in the end; the more people arriving with them, the easier it would be to blend into a crowd. As Severus and Morioka talked about something or other (she heard vague snippets that included, inexplicably, "chocolate egg"), Hermione mentally went over the plan once more in her mind.

Portkey to Los Angeles. Portkey to Honolulu. Find safe house.

She took a deep breath to calm the anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

"It's time," said Severus finally.

Hermione looked to him — she must have looked very clearly anxious because Severus put a hand on her shoulder — and then looked to Morioka, who had stepped back beyond the lines demarcating the portkey's departure area. "Thank you, Kouhei," said Hermione with a smile. "For everything."

Morioka nodded and held up a hand in farewell. "Make sure Seberus send chocolate egg," he said with a grin.

As Hermione and Severus squeezed up against the other passengers and placed their hands on the plush, she glanced up at him in confusion. "Chocolate eggs?" she whispered.

"Turns out he's a fan of those Cadbury creme eggs."

"Ah."

If they got out of this alive, she would make sure Morioka was drowning in creme eggs.

Suddenly she felt the familiar and now rather unpleasant hooking feeling behind her navel. Her stomach seemed to turn over on itself as they spun away from the Tokyo Portkey Terminal — she was, quite frankly, completely done with portkeys and would absolutely love it if she and portkeys could take a break away from each other to reconsider their relationship.

It felt as though her heart fell through her gut as her feet reconnected with the floor, and it was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling. But she quickly composed herself and cast her eyes about while the other passengers stood around to get their bearings.

The Los Angeles International Portkey Terminal appeared to be an underground facility. It was large, windowless, and quite noisy — there must have been hundreds of people in the terminal, with people spinning in and out of the room in a steady stream of portkey arrivals and departures and still more popping in and out via Apparition. If this was a trap, it was difficult to say; there were far too many people there to spot any obviously suspicious figures. She tightened her grip on her emergency bag and wand, casting her eyes about as the arrivals from Tokyo were directed away from the portkey landing area, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Severus doing the same.

"There's Danny," said Severus suddenly, nodding his head toward Danny's unmistakable figure standing in the shadows of a pillar.

They had agreed upon a password of sorts with Danny when they had formulated the plan, as they would be disguised via Polyjuice. "Takahashi Magical Remedies?" said Severus as they approached Danny, holding out his left hand. "My associate and I are here about your new business prospect."

A smile spread across Danny's face as he shook Severus's hand. "Glad you guys made it," he said, releasing Severus's hand to shake Hermione's own. "Listen, there's been a change of plans. We've had to sort out a different hotel for you two."

A sinking feeling filled Hermione's gut at Danny's words. Surely his words meant that something had gone wrong with the safe house. And now that she could see his face more clearly, she realized that it bore the unmistakable splotches of healing bruises. She tried not to let her mind run away with hypothetical scenarios, but she couldn't quell the horror that Danny might have been hurt by Rene Mortin's people — all things that, in the end, were really because of her and that blasted portkey research.

Danny had led them toward the designated area for Apparating and Disapparating and put a hand on them, looking to them for silent approval. When Severus and Hermione both nodded, Danny smiled and they were plunged into Apparition space.

Hermione found that they arrived at what appeared to be a small backyard that seemed disused and unkempt, with dried leaves scattered across the concrete floor and all over the wooden patio furniture. The remnants of a lawn sat along the far wall, overgrown but dried and brown and riddled with weeds. It was curious, however, that there wasn't a door in the wall of the house — it didn't seem like there was any more house accessible around the corner, and there didn't appear to be a basement. But before either of them could say a word, Danny waved his wand and the subsequent ripple of magic told Hermione all that she needed to know — a sliding door bloomed on the wall and slid open, as though inviting them in.

The first thing Hermione saw inside was Angela Villar sitting up on a couch, her wand pointed at them in terror.

"Whoa there, Angie, these two are my friends," said Danny, stepping in front of Hermione and Severus with a conciliatory smile. When Angela didn't look convinced, Danny glanced back at them and let out a bark of laughter. "Oh right, the Polyjuice! They'll go back to normal in a bit, and then you'll probably remember them."

While it was slightly alarming to find Angela so wound up that she'd immediately pointed her wand at intruders, Hermione supposed it was a good indicator that Danny had given her a bit of a magical education. The circumstances left much to be desired, of course; the state of Danny's face and the tension in Angela meant that they must have experienced quite the ordeal before coming to this place.

"Where are we, Danny?" Hermione asked as Danny disappeared into the kitchen.

"Lakewood," came Danny's voice amid the sounds of him rummaging through cupboards.

Lakewood didn't mean anything to Hermione, and neither to Severus if the furrow in his brow was any indication.

"Where is Lakewood?" she asked, peering into the kitchen.

Danny emerged with a steaming teapot in one hand and four coffee mugs precariously balanced on the other. "We only have green tea, sorry," he said as he carefully set everything down on the dining table. "Anyways, we're in Lakewood. Twenty-ish miles away from the portkey terminal." He paused a moment to beckon for Angela to join them at the dining table, and for Hermione and Severus to sit down.

"And what are we doing in Lakewood?" asked Severus as Danny handed him a mug of tea.

"It's a long story that I'll tell you later, but the gist of it is that my safe house is no-go with the MBI crawling all over the island," said Danny. He had a smile on his face but there was the slightest quaver in his voice. "But we still had to meet you two, so we found a place near LA. Angie can tell you about it."

Angela looked like a deer in the headlights at Danny's words. "I — uh — my friend's parents just bought this house to rent it out," she said rather timidly, as though she felt she was an intruder on the conversation. "Nobody lives here and the — um — the MBI didn't think to check as far as my friend's parents' stuff."

"So you just recently arrived here?" asked Severus, glancing from Angela to Danny. "Where did the tea come from?"

"Grabbed my emergency backpacks before we left," said Danny, gesturing at the two large hiking backpacks sitting in the corner of the room. "Had some tea bags shoved in there with the food."

"You have tea included as an emergency ration?" Hermione laughed.

"Hey man, you're from England, you should understand!"

* * *

It turned out that after Hermione and Severus had escaped through the Floo, Danny had destroyed the entrance to the Floo before fighting off the two Hit Wizards that had followed on Hermione's heels. It was there that he sustained the injuries to his face, not directly from a hex but from a Hit Wizard sending furniture hurtling at him while he was busy trying to seal the Floo and deflect the other wizard's hexes and curses. Hermione was horrified to find that her coffee table had all but shattered the right half of his face.

"Just a flesh wound," Danny had said with a laugh — Angela had let out a small giggle but Hermione couldn't see what was funny about his face getting smashed to bits. "Nothing a little magic couldn't fix, anyway."

In the end, Danny had been able to escape and hide out long enough to get a hold of Harry, who had helped find someone to fix his face before assisting him in returning to Hawaii. Danny and Angela hadn't been able to spend very much time there once Harry had left; whoever Rene Mortin had stateside had people scouring the island in no time, leaving Danny and Angela little time to even wonder how the hell they did that before making their escape back to the mainland via Oahu Floo. The safe house was Unplottable and had a whole host of concealment charms protecting it and none of the wards had indicated that he or Angela had been stuck with a tracking spell, so he'd been completely confounded as to how they'd found it so quickly.

Hermione, however, had a nagging little feeling in the back of her mind that told her she knew the reason for this, and she didn't like it one bit.

"And here we are," said Danny once he finished his tale. "Still haven't figured out how they were able to find us. Maybe I got sloppy, I dunno. Nobody's turned up here so..."

_Shit. Shit shit shit._

"I think I know," Hermione said softly.

For a moment, her companions looked to her with confusion. Until, slowly, realization dawned on Severus's and Danny's faces.

"Your portkey research," Severus said, running his fingers through his (now un-Polyjuiced) hair.

"My portkey research."

* * *

_(A/N originally posted May 2015?)_

_A/N: So uh...I've had this chapter sitting around in my Google docs for like...a couple years. I read a bunch of HP fanfics last weekend and remembered that this was a thing I was working on. So here, have the thing. Maybe I'll write more. Hopefully I'll write more, between this and my Mass Effect one. Hell, maybe I'll write more Portal one, idk._

_New things that happened while I was busy doing other things for several years: finished my Masters, got job, got laid off from job, went to Japan, now looking for more job while making games._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see here that the updates started deteriorating around 2011-2012, and I didn't post again until 2015. Hahah. I can't even find chapter 6 in my backups anywhere wtf. I had apparently switched to Google Docs starting in chapter 7. But where did 6 go? D:


	8. Breather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! So! AO3 is finally up to date with FF.net. I've been picking away at chapter 9 already, so hopefully that'll be done soon! But I definitely intend to keep writing -- none of this "wallow in self loathing for 3 years and forget how much you like writing" bullshit. I'm still definitely trying to get my writing style back, and it shows in chapter 8. Hopefully I'll get it together soon.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, readers! <3

_Of course. Of fucking course._

“They must have refined it,” Hermione said, her voice fraught and her mind fervently running through the multitudes of possibilities — of the implications of her portkey research complete and functional—

“Hermione, calm down.”

The sound of Severus’s deep voice punctured the swarm of thoughts filling Hermione’s mind. It was all she needed to rein in her thoughts, to organize them into neater, less chaotic trains. Severus recognized this and gave her the slightest smile of approval. He and Danny likely could see that she was busy gathering her thoughts; they allowed her to muse in silence, for which she was grateful. It was clear, however, that Danny was on-edge. He absently turned his mug in his hands, the rhythmic scraping on the tabletop acting almost as a metronome in her mind.

“What does your research have to do with this?” Danny asked finally, obviously attempting — and failing — to keep from betraying the anxiety in his voice.

“Remember when I had the accident and I just turned up in Hawaii almost literally at Severus’s doorstep?” Hermione said, and Danny nodded. She could see Angela in the corner of her eye, and she looked to be eagerly holding on to anything Hermione said.

“Well, when I’d had the accident, I was working on a potion intended to work with portkeys,” she continued. “The ingredients reacted badly when Richard — that man who came to examine me — tried to wipe my memory. I got stuck in portkey space and had a passing thought about Severus, and, well, it took me to him.”

“But you thought he was dead,” said Danny with a perplexed frown.

“I suppose my knowledge didn’t matter to the portkey.”

There was a brief silence, before Danny’s mouth spread into a smile.

“Why Severus, though?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Long lost love?”

Severus scowled at him, and Hermione felt her face burn.

“N-nothing like that!” she said in a huff. “Severus was a strict Potions professor, and I’d just wondered what he’d say to me if he knew I’d bungled one up so badly!”

“All right, all right,” said Danny, visibly stifling his smile.

“So if we assume Mortin’s people have learned how to use Hermione’s research to similar effect,” said Severus, pensively stroking the inside of his forearm with a thumb, “it would explain how they were able to locate your safe house so quickly. They had only to use the potion and take a portkey, then think about finding Danny, whereupon the portkey would deposit them as close to Danny’s location as the wards permit.”

“I suppose it’s fortunate that they haven’t figured out how to force their way through wards. Or at least, how to force their way through wards without ending up like I did,” Hermione added with a grimace. “And I suppose they haven’t any more potion to use, if nobody has shown up here yet.”

Severus nodded in agreement, then turned to Danny. “How many wizards showed up at the island?”

He thought for a moment, absently drumming his fingers on his mug. “Three that I could confirm, but there could’ve been more in the forest,” said Danny.

This news was actually quite welcome to Hermione. “Then it’s likely they’ve exhausted what they’ve been able to brew,” she said, allowing herself a smile. “If that is the case, and if they’re following my logs closely, it will be at least a week before another batch could conceivably be ready.”

“What if they modified it to be faster?” asked Danny.

“Possible, but unlikely,” said Hermione. “Clearbell was a vital ingredient, but it takes time to draw out its effects. I’m confident that the potion would not work if not for the clearbell.”

“In the best case scenario, we’ve one week to gather information,” said Severus solemnly.

His words were met with silent nods of agreement.

As Danny and Severus launched into planning their intel-gathering strategies, Hermione glanced toward Angela, who had remained surprisingly silent throughout the entire discussion. She looked stricken and pale, her eyes fixed on her empty mug. “Angela, are you all right? You’ve been quiet this whole time,” Hermione said gently.

Angela seemed to be startled that she was being addressed. “I — I’m all right,” she managed to say, but she had the characteristic look of someone who was decidedly _not_ all right.

“We’re here to help,” said Hermione in what she hoped was an encouraging tone. Angela made a strangled noise, as though she was struggling to decide if it was a good idea to say what was on her mind. Hermione patiently waited for her to sort out her thoughts; she could almost see the cogs turning furiously in Angela’s mind.

“I just — “ Angela finally said, a pained look on her face, “— this is all — I mean, it doesn’t even feel real, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I understand, nobody is expecting you to know what to do right now.”

“But that’s the thing,” Angela said hotly, her face the very picture of frustration. “Those w — wizards — are out to kill you guys — kill us! And Danny’s been dragging me around and protecting me, and I can’t do anything to be useful.” Her eyes were welling up with tears. “I’m a programmer, what am I gonna do? Computer a guy to death? A guy who has a fucking _magic stick?_ ”

She was trembling now and had buried her face in the crook of her arm so as to staunch her tears. Hermione scooted her chair over and put an arm around Angela, and to her relief, Angela did not shrink away from her touch. She was racked with silent sobs, and it was obvious she was trying her hardest to make it stop. Hermione had no idea what to say to her, if there was even anything to say. Suddenly (and violently) being plunged into the magical world obviously wasn’t a cakewalk, so it was no surprise that she was buckling from the weight of the ordeal.

“You’ve forgotten, Miss Villar, that you are now the proud owner of such a magic stick.”

Hermione was surprised to hear Severus’s voice, and it seemed Angela was just as surprised. Angela furiously wiped her tears away on her sleeve and looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red.

“But — but I don’t know how to use it,” she said in a soft, hesitant rasp.

“These are not ideal circumstances for learning, of course,” Severus continued, “but we can teach you how to protect yourself. Your situation is — unprecedented, to say the least — so it remains to be seen if you can learn in such a short amount of time, but we will try.”

These words seemed to relax Angela somewhat, but it was clear there was something else on her mind.

“Couldn’t you just — leave me behind?” she said quietly, averting her gaze. “I’m — I’ll just fuck everything up. It’s my fault — it’s my fault —”

“Miss Villar, if anything, you are a victim. You certainly didn’t ask to be kidnapped and made magical.”

“But —”

“If we left you somewhere — with your Muggle family perhaps — you’d only be snatched up again by Mortin’s people,” said Severus, the slightest hint of impatience in his voice. Hermione still marveled at his control considering his past history, and she was infinitely grateful for it. “Considering the state you were in when Hermione found you, I imagine you’d find our company preferable to being with Mortin and his thugs.”

“I — y-yes. Yes.” Angela looked down at her mug again, shifting uneasily in her seat. “I just — I’m — I’m sorry. For crying like this. Sorry.”

She flashed them a grateful smile before getting up from her seat, muttering vaguely about the bathroom and hurrying off into the dim corridor past the sitting room.

“You know, she’s been a trooper with this whole thing,” said Danny lightly, easing back in his chair. “Kinda had a meltdown after Harry got her back from the Ministry I guess, but who wouldn’t?”

“Speaking of Harry, does he know where you — we are?” asked Hermione.

“No, I haven’t been able to contact him yet.”

Hermione’s mind immediately went to the modified Galleon she kept in her pocket. There hadn’t been time to test her modifications, but she was confident that the two-way communication would work. “What options do we have?” she asked, absently running a finger along the Galleon’s shape in her pocket.

“Well,” Danny started hesitantly, which wasn’t encouraging in the least, “owl is out of the question unless we want to put huge ‘here we are!’ signs around. Floo traffic is heavily monitored in the US, so that’s no good. We _could_ just try to call him, but...“ He trailed off.

“But what?” Severus said with a frown. “We called Potter from Japan to no ill effect.”

“See, that Conrad guy Harry mentioned worries me. The American guy,” said Danny. He exhaled slowly. “He probably had something to do with kidnapping Angela. Why kidnap a Non — a Muggle — from Heathrow when there are plenty of Nons like... _everywhere else?_ So assuming Angela was non-random, there had to have been a vetting process, and to have a vetting process to pick a Non means, well —“

“That Conrad has some level of expertise with Muggle society.”

Hermione turned their words over in her mind; it all made perfect sense, so they couldn’t afford to make assumptions about this Conrad character’s knowledge of Muggle technologies. He — or his team, she supposed — managed to pick a software engineer of all people, so they couldn’t assume that an international phone call to Harry Potter would go unnoticed. There was the Galleon they could try, and even if the two-way modification didn’t work, Harry would at least get her message that they were safe.

“I have a Galleon that I can use to send small messages to Harry,” said Hermione. “We can at least let him know we’re safe. I modified it to accept messages as well, but it hasn’t been tested.”

Severus and Danny nodded in silent understanding — she’d explained the Galleon to them while she was recovering in Hawaii.

“It would be ideal to throw Mortin off our trails,” said Severus finally. “There are two obvious places for them to expect us: Hawaii and Britain. As far as we know, they haven’t yet located us here in California. We must make them think we are _somewhere else_ , to buy us more time here.”

Silence once more.

“You know what?” said Danny suddenly, leaping up from his seat. “I’m going to make something to eat. I think I have marinara sauce in my backpack, does pasta sound good?” But he didn’t wait to see if they approved or not, and immediately began rummaging through his emergency supplies.

Hermione and Severus sat silently at the dining table while Danny busied himself in the kitchen, mulling over the different possibilities in deceiving Mortin. It was difficult to think of any magical way to pretend they were in a different location short of leaving the presumed safety of their _current_ location.

She glanced over at Severus and found him with fingers steepled over his mouth, his jaw muscles visibly clenching and unclenching and his eyes darting back and forth as though sizing up some unseen adversary. The seriousness that had overcome him was almost startling — Hermione hadn’t seen him with such an expression in all the time since he scooped her incapacitated form off the shore of his beachfront home. In their escape to Aokigahara, there had been deep concern, and at the butler cafe, indignation.  

But now everyone was relatively safe. There was no butler cafe, no jokes. There was only the threat — the threat intent on erasing anybody involved with Hermione Granger and her portkey research.

There was frustration. And there was anger.

They’d been backed into a corner, and Severus Snape was _pissed off_.

“What do we know of Mortin?” he asked. His voice was slow, measured. Venomous.

It took Hermione a moment to recall what little she knew about the man. “All I know about him is that he was quite high up in the Department of Mysteries and was a member of the Wizengamot. But the Department being, well, the Department, I haven’t the slightest idea what he was working on or managing. In light of recent events, however,” Hermione added with a sigh, “it seems likely he was studying the mechanisms of how magic is expressed in humans.”

There was a heavy silence. “It’s quite clear that he hopes to get the wizarding world’s attention,” Hermione continued when Severus remained silent and deep in thought. “His presentation in the Atrium is evidence enough of that. But what I don’t understand is _why_. Is it for power? He doesn’t seem the type…”

“He could be pushing for some idealistic goal,” said Severus, fixing Hermione with a piercing look. “The power to take magical ability away — that is an incredible power indeed. That he can take away what defines the wizarding world’s being…I imagine the entire magical community is collectively soiling themselves in terror.”

Hermione wracked her brain to recall what had happened that day in the Atrium; everything had become a blur in her memory, between splinching herself trying to escape Stockton and fleeing via portkey to Seoul. “If I’m remembering correctly, Mortin said something before Sinclair set Stockton on me,” said Hermione suddenly, “he was going on about how it changes things. Something about changing societal paradigms.”

Something clicked in Hermione’s brain. And from grim look on Severus’s face, it seemed that he had arrived at the same conclusion.

“The fact that he forced Ministry employees to watch that presentation means he’s...”

“He is trying to destabilize the Ministry,” said Severus darkly.

Hermione’s mind raced. What was Mortin’s endgame here? Join the wizarding world and the Muggle world? If the Muggles found out that there was an entire secret society of people with _magical power_...Well, that was sure to go over well.

“What does he intend to do while the Ministry is in disarray?” Hermione said, biting the tip of her thumb anxiously. “Is he planning to overthrow the Minister? But then what? Reveal the magical world to the Muggles?”

Severus let out a short guttural grunt that startled her. “He’s mad,” he said, his voice nearly a growl. “The only thing to come out of this will be _yet another thing_ for humans to senselessly fight about. Did he even _think_ about — ” Severus stopped, exhaling sharply through his gritted teeth. “Of course he thought about it. And, of course, he thinks he is right.”

Hermione didn’t know what to say. Everything Severus said was true.

“I didn’t survive the Dark Lord just to deal with another short-sighted, arrogant fool with delusions of toppling society,” Severus snarled.

Regret washed over Hermione; it was her fault entirely that he was wrapped up in this. She resisted the urge to apologize to him — that would do nothing to help the situation at hand — but felt the regret clench around her heart like a vice grip. If she hadn’t dragged him into this mess, if she hadn’t thought of him when that fateful portkey accident had occurred —

She locked eyes with Severus, and in that moment she realized her thoughts were right at the surface — there was a flash of realization, and before she could even think to clear her mind, he was at her side, arms wrapped around her shoulders with his forehead pressed into her hair. “Severus, what…” was all Hermione could say.

“Shh.”

Tears began welling up in Hermione’s eyes, and her chest tightened with approaching sobs. “I’m — Severus, I’m so sorry, it’s my fault—“ The words she had just resolved not to say were spilling out of her mouth, and she couldn’t stop them or the tears from flowing down her cheeks. Severus gently pulled her head into his shoulder, and she couldn’t contain the sobs any longer.

“No regrets,” he said softly into her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder.

“It’s my fault — I got you into this mess —“

He didn’t say anything and made soft “shh” sounds as she wept, and even while she was overcome with grief, her mind thought to point out how utterly ridiculous it was that Severus Snape could console a person so well.

“Consider the alternative,” Severus said once her sobs had died down. “You could be dead. The accident might have killed you. Or you may have been lost to portkey space forever. You still live, and you should not regret that.” He paused for a moment when he sensed that she was unconvinced. “If you hadn’t come to me, I would never have been cured of Nagini’s venom. I would have died, probably within the year.”

She turned her head to look up at him, and he gave her a solemn nod. “That is the truth, Hermione,” he said softly.

Further words were forestalled when Danny emerged from the kitchen and wordlessly placed a box of tissues on the dining table. As he turned to go back to the pasta, he caught Hermione’s eye and gave her a small smile of understanding.

Severus pulled a tissue out of the box and pressed it into her hand.

“Thank you,” Hermione said hoarsely as she wiped her eyes.

“Hey, uh...pasta’s done,” came Danny’s hesitant voice as he poked his head out of the kitchen. “Come get it whenever you’re ready.”

Crying had really eased some of the stress that had been building up inside Hermione ever since Mortin’s Ministry presentation, and she found herself thoroughly enjoying what Danny had dubbed “Secret Hideout Pasta”. Hermione was eternally grateful that Danny was holding things together so well; he chattered on and on in that wholly unbothered way of his, and it was almost as though they _weren’t_ hiding in a secret hideout eating Secret Hideout Pasta.

As they ate (magically replenishing the pasta while they talked), Danny’s idle chatter soon turned the conversation toward their current secret hideout predicament. Angela was much more forthcoming now, and explained that her close friend’s parents had purchased the house with the intent of renovating it and renting it out, and that she knew the house’s address because she’d helped her friend deliver renovation materials to the place right before her fateful trip to Europe.

“That was some quick thinking, suggesting this place,” Danny laughed. “Those Hit Wizards were basically knocking on the safe house door. Lucked out long enough to tag along with a portkey headed to here.”

When they’d had their fill of Secret Hideout Pasta, a tense silence overcame them. They knew they had to have a discussion — _Real Talk_ — but all were reluctant to let go of the feeling of normalcy that they’d had precious little of these past few days.

“Danny. Do you have any leads?” said Severus finally.

Danny exhaled slowly. “Before we left Hawaii, one of my closest buddies at the MBI managed to get a message to me through the Floo,” he said. “Said that they’d been tracking some suspicious activity down in Orange County, some unidentified wizards skulking around with someone they think might be Conrad...” He trailed off, and if Hermione wasn’t mistaken, he looked almost...hesitant?

“Do you doubt his intel?” asked Severus with a frown.

“No, no, I trust it completely,” Danny said with a nervous laugh. “It’s just the location — ah — _well_.”

“Stop blathering and tell us where!” Severus snapped.

Danny’s eyes darted to Angela briefly before he let out another laugh.

“Disneyland. ‘ _The Most Magical Place on Earth_ ’, right?”


	9. Formulating

**Ninth: Formulating**

Hermione stared at Danny in disbelief.

“...Sorry, what did you say?” she sputtered.

“Ah...Disneyland.”

Her eyes darted from Danny to Severus, and found — for the first time since he’d re-entered her life — a genuinely shocked Severus Snape. “What do you mean, ‘ _Disneyland_ ’?” Severus said, his voice nearly a growl. It appeared that Snape’s confusion surprised Danny as well, but not a moment later did his lips spread into a grin.

“You don’t know about Disneyland? Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it,” Danny said incredulously.

“Of course I’ve heard of Disneyland,” said Severus, rolling his eyes irately. “But suspicious activity at _Disneyland_? Some dodgy fellows on the teacup ride, I expect?” Hermione was unable to stifle a smile at the thought of black-cloaked wizards spinning around in a brightly-colored teacup.

Danny let out a small breath of awe. “You really don’t know about Disneyland!” He looked to Angela for support, only to find her face the very picture of confusion.

Hermione found herself beginning to grow impatient. “Get on with it if you please, Danny,” she said, unable to stifle the slight irritation in her voice.

“Okay, all right, so the thing about Disneyland,” he started, leaning in as though he was sharing some great secret, “is that it has some of the tightest magical security around.”

“What? But why?” Hermione said in surprise.

“Disneyland is fun even if you’re magical — you don’t have to be a Non to enjoy it,” Danny said with a twinkle in his eye. “Magical people go to Disneyland all the time, but security is pretty intensive. Like, they’re _really damn serious_ about it. I’m talking separate magical-only entrance, mandatory dress code, anti-enchantment measures so you can’t go in Polyjuiced or Disillusioned or anything. The works.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” said Hermione, tapping her finger thoughtfully. “Violating the Statute of Secrecy _would_ be quite serious…”

“Well, there’s that,” Danny said, nodding to her. “But I guess their ‘ _thing_ ’ is to make magic happen for Nons, using technology made by Nons. I’ve heard that Disney himself demanded that, but I dunno if it’s actually true or not. I _do_ know that it’s not a good time for you if you piss off the magical security guys.”

“So where, then, does this leave us? You’d be a fool to try and make trouble there,” said Severus, his brow furrowed. “If Conrad and friends are indeed skulking around Disneyland, I’m sure it’s not just to take a vacation from terrorizing the Ministry.”

That was the real question. If magical security was as tight as Danny said, then why in the world would Conrad risk going there? There was no way it was plain old hubris, he and his cronies had to be cooking up something there. Hermione cursed under her breath — it sounded like Disneyland had quite the magical history and she never got around to learning a thing about it. But what could possibly be at Disneyland that they would even want or need?

“Your friend,” Hermione said, looking to Danny. “Did he provide any other details? Was that it, that unidentified wizards were being suspicious around Disneyland?”

As if he’d been waiting for her to ask, Danny reached into his back pocket and produced a small photograph, placing it the center of the table for everyone to see. “He managed to get me this,” he explained. “I — “

“Whoa!”

They all turned to Angela in surprise, and her face flushed. “Sorry, I was just — the picture is moving,” she said, shifting in her seat nervously.

“Sure is,” said Danny with a grin. “So. This is apparently footage from a day before the big thing happened at the Ministry.”

The photo was reminiscent of Muggle CCTV footage: the image was black and white and evidently taken from some overhead camera, but had the notable exception of being unnaturally, magically detailed. The frame slowly panned, following a trio of men as they wove through the crowds. One of them, the one in front wearing a baseball cap, looked around furtively as they passed under the bridge of some sort of railroad, and it was then that Hermione caught the profile of his face. But only briefly — he seemed to pop out of existence just a moment later, as did two other wizards once they reached the same point. A few seconds later, the ink melted away as though absorbed by the paper, before the start frame of the footage redrew itself and began playback once more.

Though she’d only seen him very briefly at the Atrium fiasco with Mortin, she was certain that the man in the cap was Conrad.

Once they’d watched the photo loop back a few more times, Danny flipped the photograph over to reveal some notes hastily scrawled on the back.

_footage day before ministry_   
_matches 4 mo ago_   
_face rec 87% conrad_   
_caution — infiltrated_

“What happened four months ago?” asked Severus, brow furrowed.

Danny crossed his arms, and his smile faded slightly. “Four months ago they noticed some similarly suspicious activity, and we didn’t know what to make of it at the time,” he explained, drumming his fingers thoughtfully. “We sent some guys to investigate, but as far as I know, they didn’t find anything.”

Four months ago...Hermione cursed her bad luck. If only she’d been healthy and at work in the Ministry then. But no, she’d been busy recovering from her escapade through the Department’s supposedly unbreakable wards and into the Pacific Ocean.

But she paused at that thought. Four months ago was when she’d had her portkey accident. That was when —

No, it couldn’t be.

Could it?

“Four months ago was when I had that accident,” Hermione said slowly. Her eyes slowly met Severus’s piercing gaze — he understood.

There was a tense silence, and slowly realization spread on Danny’s face.

“You think they used your…?” he started, but trailed off into silence.

Hermione took a moment to gather her thoughts. She could feel her insides churning as the pieces began falling into place. “My research, yes,” she said softly. “I don’t think that’s what they used to disappear like that, but...I have no doubts that this is all related to my research.”

The silence was heavy.

“This caution here,” Severus said, his voice cutting through the air as he pointed at the last line, “it says ‘infiltrated.’ Do you have any idea what it’s referring to?”

Danny’s eyes darted back and forth across the table, and it was clear he was busy pulling lines of thought together. “If we were infiltrated — either the MBI or Disneyland security or both — then I guess I’m not surprised that nothing turned up in that investigation.” He trailed off again. Not a moment later, he exhaled through his teeth and anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, worry plastered over his face. “ _Merlin_ , I hope Eric is all right…”

The thought of the MBI being infiltrated brought her phone call with Harry to the forefront of her mind. He had mentioned that Mortin had “deep connections” with the MBI — could this be what he meant? To turn the MBI against Danny so swiftly...Just how much of the organization did he have under his thumb? Although Hermione supposed he didn’t necessarily need many people; if he had but one or two skilled wizards in the just right places, careful use of Confundus or Imperius or whatever else could be enough to throw the organization into disarray.

“Is your family safe?” came Severus’s voice suddenly, and Hermione was momentarily surprised at his sudden concern before quickly realizing that this MBI infiltration could spell danger for anyone associated with Danny.

“I told my cousins to watch out before I left the safe house, for their families and my mom. They’re — they’re smart, they would have hidden when they realized the MBI was after me,” Danny said. It was obvious that he was doing his best to sound confident, but the color was quickly draining from his face. Hermione felt sick to her stomach; Severus had only _just_ told her that there was no way for her to have known that her research would have put them in this situation, but an ever-louder voice in her head was screaming that this was _all her fault_.

She had to fix this somehow, one way or another.

“We — we need to find out what they’re doing in Disneyland,” said Hermione, her voice quavering slightly. “How can we get in?”

“Security will be tight, we’d never make it...” Danny said, frowning. “Are we really going to go there? I know you’re both war heroes and all that, but seems — I dunno — reckless?”

Severus arched an eyebrow at him. “Calling _me_ reckless, Danny? How the tables have turned,” he said, his mouth spreading into a smirk. There was a brief flash of surprise on Danny’s face, but he recovered quickly and grinned.

“Only one of us is allowed to be reckless at a time, man,” he said. “The last time you were reckless, you got all hive-y and swollen and needed rescuing!”

Danny’s barks of laughter and Severus’s chuckles seemed to lift some of the tension in the air, and Hermione found herself letting out the breath that she’d been holding in her lungs. She’d once heard the story of the time Severus had botched an anti-allergy potion and ended up “hive-y and swollen”, and the image of a bloated Severus was _much_ too much for her — she doubled over in laughter, leaning against the table for support.

“If we don’t investigate Disneyland, what have we left to do?” said Severus, once their laughter had died down. “Disneyland is the only lead we have. Otherwise we’d be blundering around pointlessly in an area we don’t know. Or sitting here, twiddling our thumbs.”

“There’s still the matter of it not being safe to go home to London,” Hermione added. “If going home is not an option, investigating here is the best thing we can do. This is all my — ” She paused, forcing the word “fault” from her mind. “They are exploiting my research and it looks quite likely that they are doing so at Disneyland, so I intend to get to the bottom of it.”

There was more bite to her words than she had intended; Danny grimaced before giving her an apologetic smile. “All right, point taken,” he said. “You’re not wrong — Disneyland is all we’ve got. We just gotta think of a way in that won’t get their attention...”

“There is no security without its holes,” Severus said. “We will need to scout the area, there must be something.”

“Um — could we just buy tickets? Like at the normal entrance?”

They were all startled by the sound of Angela’s voice, and her face flushed again when they turned to her. “Sorry — probably a stupid idea, right?” she sputtered.

“No, perhaps not quite so stupid,” said Severus thoughtfully. “I wonder if security could be that foolish…”

Angela seemed as surprised as Hermione and Danny. After a moment, however, Hermione’s eyes widened when she realized what Severus was implying. Security at the magical entrance would be tight, that much was clear. But if they were foolish enough to not monitor the Muggle entrance...But could they be? From Danny’s description of them, they seemed quite savvy. It would be a huge risk to try entering the park from the Muggle entrance without knowing for sure if magical security was indeed lighter there. Still, so far this was the best thing they had.

“Is there anywhere we can look up past magical incidents at Disneyland?” Hermione asked. “Perhaps we can get a feel for their security patterns based on past history.”

Danny tapped a finger on the table, deep in thought. “The big magical library in L.A. could have records. Like newspapers and stuff. I haven’t been, but I heard the search charms are thorough,” he said. “It’s in the Wizarding District in Downtown.”

_Perfect_. Hermione knew libraries, and if there was anything she was good at, it was gleaning the knowledge held within them.

“Oh,” came Angela’s voice once more. She looked perplexed this time. “Is there no — er — magic internet? Magic Google? Or something?”

“Sadly, no,” said Danny with an apologetic laugh. “The Nons definitely have us beat there. The library’s search charms might be _kind of_ like a Google? But we’d still have to be there in person.”

“It’s worth it to at least try to find out more information. We’d be asking to get captured otherwise,” Hermione said. “How do we get there?”

“I — hm. Floo is definitely a no. We could Apparate there? It’s pretty open though, coming in through the actual entrance would be a bit more discreet. Probably.”

“Where in Downtown is it?” asked Angela. She sounded more confident now — Hermione suspected they were finally talking about things that Angela had real knowledge about.

“The Wizarding District is mostly underneath the Fashion District. I’ve used the Union Station entrance before, but I usually Apparate,” said Danny. “The only other entrance I know of is some place in Santee Alley, but I’ve never used it.”

Angela wrinkled her nose.

“Don’t like Los Angeles, Miss Villar?” Severus said with a smirk. “You’re from the area — what would you suggest?”

“Ah, I — uh — well, normally I’d drive there,” Angela said. “But I hate driving in L.A., it’s always shit. We could take the train? There’s one that stops in Union Station. But we’d have to drive to a station to get on the train…”

If there was one thing Hermione knew about America, it was that many places were so inconveniently sprawled that they were sure to need a car if they wanted to avoid magical transport. There weren’t many options at this point; she suspected they would become car thieves within the day.

“We can arrange for that,” said Danny brightly. “I don’t think there’s a safer way to get to the Wizarding District apart from driving or taking that train. We could all probably use a haircut, too.”

Hermione looked to him, wide-eyed.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, we can’t all show up at the Wizarding District with hats and sunglasses on, that’ll be weird!” Danny said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione reflexively ran her fingers through her hair; “messy” was the _nice_ word for the current state of her hair, and she would even venture to say that it was actually quite unkempt. Unkempt or not, she supposed her bushy hair did make her much easier to identify, especially when she had no access to hair potions that could straighten it. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that her hair at this length was nothing more than a nuisance to be wrestled into a hair tie. If trimming it would make her stand out less _and_ she wouldn’t have to deal with tying it or putting into a bun...

“All right, Danny. Good riddance to _this_ ,” Hermione said, gesturing at her hair.

“Hermione, you don’t have to listen to him,” said Severus, frowning. “No need to be so drastic.”

“Oho, Severus! Could it be that you _like_ Hermione’s hair like this?” Danny said roguishly, wiggling his eyebrows. Severus looked momentarily nonplussed, and Hermione couldn’t help but try (and fail) to stifle a grin — it was clear he was struggling to think of the best way to answer this question.

“I — of course I like her hair! I’m just trying to protect her from the likes of you,” he finally said, narrowing his eyes at Danny. After a moment, he turned to Hermione. “Cut your hair if you wish, but don’t just do it because this idiot told you to.” He averted his gaze once he was finished speaking, and Hermione couldn’t help but grin. Though there was no blush on his face, it was clear that for whatever reason he was at least a _little_ embarrassed. Hermione wasn’t sure that she had ever seen — or even imagined — an _embarrassed_ Severus Snape, and she was relishing the sight of it.

“It’s all right, Severus. I want to trim it,” she said. “What about you — do you want a haircut?”

“Absolutely not.”

Danny’s cackles rang through the house.

* * *

 

It was getting quite late in the evening by the time they had cleaned up the Secret Hideout Pasta, but it was unspoken that they couldn’t waste their time lounging about the house. Since Severus had adamantly refused to trim his hair, he had opted to teach — or try to teach — Angela defensive magic. Hermione and Danny, on the other hand, were in the bathroom attempting to be hairstylists. Between the two of them and careful use of _diffindo_ , they had managed to trim two inches from his hair without it turning into a disaster.

“You look presentable enough,” said Hermione as she cut away the last of the stray hairs. She examined him in the mirror and gave a small nod of approval; it wasn’t a stylish cut so he wouldn’t be turning any heads, but she supposed that was the point right now.

“‘Presentable’ is all I need,” Danny laughed, quickly running his fingers through his hair to remove any errant trimmings. “You’re up, Hermione. How do you wanna do this?”

She looked to the mirror and turned her head from side to side. Her hair was slightly past her shoulders nowadays, and though the length had been annoying her for some time, tying it into a bun worked out fine considering her current work at the Ministry. Well, perhaps _past_ work now, considering their current predicament.

“I’ll tie it up and then cut it. It should be easier that way.”

With a wave of her wand, she conjured a hair tie. She pulled her hair back and frowned slightly as she wrestled the curls into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. If they cut her hair with it tied there, she should theoretically end up with some sort of bob — though with her hair, she wouldn’t be surprised if the shorter length would grant it the power to defy gravity.

“I think you should cut it,” Hermione said, once she was happy with the ponytail placement. “It’s too awkward for me. Do try to cut it straight.”

Danny grinned at her in the mirror. “What, you don’t want crooked haircut? I thought that was in these days,” he said. She rolled her eyes — a habit she picked up from Severus, she expected — but couldn’t help but smile. “You ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

One quick _diffindo_ was all it took, and she soon felt a pleasant lightness to her head as the mass of hair fell away. When she removed the ponytail and brushed her fingers through her hair a few times, she found that her hair had ended up a little bit shorter than shoulder-length. The bob shape wasn’t quite defined, though — she supposed the ponytail method wouldn’t have produced the drastic line that her bushy hair might have required. Still, it wasn’t a disaster and that’s all she hoped for.

“What do you think?” she asked as she turned her head in the mirror.

“Looks great to me. It’s a nice spy haircut.”

“Well, it wouldn’t do to have a _bad_ spy haircut. We must be stylish,” she said with a small laugh. Then, with a flick of her wand, she Vanished the hair littering the bathroom floor.

“Want some tea? We can hang out while Severus is doing his thing.”

Though it was late, tea did sound like a great idea. When they emerged from the bathroom, they found Severus in the midst of teaching Angela the Shield Charm. It wasn’t going well if the slight scowl on Severus’s face was any indication, but Hermione wasn’t surprised; _protego_ was difficult enough for experienced wizards, and Angela had no magical experience whatsoever. It was probably the most important spell she could learn, however, and Hermione supposed that was precisely why Severus was enduring this right now.

Severus turned when he heard them approaching, and his eyes widened when he caught sight of her. For a moment, Hermione worried that perhaps the haircut wasn’t quite as good as she and Danny thought — but this was unfounded, as Severus’s face softened and his lips turned up in a small smile.

“What do you think, Severus?” Hermione asked.

“I am relieved that you didn’t let that fool ruin your head,” Severus said, and Danny made a face of mock indignation and disappeared into kitchen in a fake huff. This was a Severus stamp of approval if Hermione said so herself — she smiled and took a seat at the dining table.

“How’s the training going?” she asked.

“Not particularly well, though it’s no surprise. Shield Charms can be difficult even for experienced wizards,” said Severus, and Angela grimaced. Severus’s voice was measured and even, quite like his voice back at Morioka’s butler cafe, which made Hermione wonder _just_ how frustrated he was.

“I — I think I’m starting to get it,” Angela said, a slight defensiveness in her voice. “Like — thinking about the right thing when you say the word. Right?”

“That is one way to put it,” said Severus placidly, turning back toward her and raising his wand. “Again.”

Danny quickly returned with a pair of mugs, and the both of them sat and watched in fascination as they sipped at their tea. Severus would wait for Angela to cast a shield — or attempt to anyways, she wasn’t always successful at casting anything — then shoot a mild jinx at her. Interestingly, Angela seemed to treat the Shield Charm as though it would be a literal shield on her hand, and was moving her wand hand to block the jinx while attempting to sidestep it with her body. Hermione wondered if this was a result of Angela’s...Muggle-ness? Children learning magic quickly realize that the vast majority of spells are intangible, but here Angela seemed to have the best results when she made use of her hand as a sort of physical anchor.

“Oh! Did you see that?” said Angela from the floor after her latest failure at blocking Severus’s Jelly-Legs Jinx. She looked up at them, wide-eyed with excitement despite her incapacitated legs; this time, Hermione had seen the jinx veer slightly, and it would have missed her completely if it had veered in a more fortuitous direction. As it happened, it had deflected straight into her face, which had once more sent her crashing to the floor.

“Heeey, you did it! Sorta!” cheered Danny while Angela got back onto her feet.

Severus nodded to Angela with what Hermione thought was approval on his face. “That will do for tonight, Miss Villar,” he said, dropping into the chair beside Hermione. He cast his eyes over her hair, and his lips spread into a smile.

“Like what you see, Severus?” said Hermione, turning her head slightly and fluttering her eyelashes. His eyebrows arched in momentary disbelief, before a smirk emerged on his face.

“Oh yes. It suits you.”

“What about you?” Hermione asked, stifling a grin as she thought she knew the answer already. “I promise I won’t let Danny anywhere near your hair. You know, if you wanted it cut in the first place.” She waggled her wand at him and gave a coy look for added effect.

Betrayal flashed across Severus’s face.

“ _Absolutely not!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all like the chapter! It's mostly talky and not much happening (sorry, no Didney just yet), and it ends pretty awkwardly, but I didn't want to put that section in the next chapter, so HERE YOU GO. I noticed that AO3 does something fucky with quotes and italics, but I suppose it's better than whatever the heck ff.net does omg
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	10. Serendipity

**Tenth: Serendipity**

In the dim light of the Secret Hideout garage, Hermione found herself buckled in the back seat of a BMW with Severus next to her, his legs pressing up against the back of the front passenger seat.

“Why did you guys steal such a nice car?!” Angela asked from the driver’s seat, her voice strained. “Won’t we be _more_ obvious in a BMW?”

“Someone who owns a nice car should—in theory—be less inconvenienced by us borrowing it,” said Severus.

“Yeah, figured if we borrowed a really old car, we’d be messing up someone who doesn’t have as much money,” Danny added. “The guy we borrowed from should be fine—he had two more in the garage. Borrowed his laptop too.”

Hermione wasn’t so sure she liked how they kept referring to it as “borrowing.”

“Did you get the password from him?” asked Angela. Her hands were quivering slightly as she nervously adjusted the snapback hat that Danny had transfigured for her that morning.

“Yep, we’re all good! You know how to get to the Fashion District, right? Because—ah—I don’t,” said Danny.

“ _I thought you knew where to go_ ,” Severus hissed irately, which caused his thick-framed fake glasses to slip down his nose—he had refused a haircut, but Hermione had managed to cajole him into wearing the fake glasses and tying his hair up into a ponytail. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t suggested it because of his dashing butler look from Morioka’s café...

“I don’t know how to get there without magic!” Danny exclaimed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I know how to get there,” Angela said quickly, before Severus could open his mouth to give Danny a verbal lashing. “I—yeah, no problem, I know where the Fashion District is. I just— _whew_ —”

Angela was clenching and unclenching her fists around the steering wheel, and was visibly trying to calm herself with deep breaths.

“What’s wrong, Angela?” Hermione asked.

“I—well, never drove a stolen car before. I—ah —”

“Hey now, we’re _borrowing_ it,” Danny said. “We’ll give it back, or leave it somewhere and the police will get it back to him. Plus, dude had like two more cars, he’ll be fine. Probably.”

“Okay, okay. I—yeah. Let’s go.”

It had been quite a while since Hermione had spent any time at all in a car. She was so used to literally popping in wherever she wanted to be that she felt slightly claustrophobic sitting there buckled into the back seat of the car, and it didn’t help that Angela was either quite nervous or a naturally aggressive driver, or both, because _she was going for it_. Severus similarly looked like he wasn’t having the best of times; once they had entered the freeway and Angela had pushed the car to 80 miles per hour (after gleefully cackling something about a carpool lane), he had visibly tensed up, and it wasn’t until that Hermione had taken his hand, for both his benefit _and_ hers, that he had relaxed ever so slightly.

Angela muttered a string of expletives as they slowed for the traffic ahead of them, before letting out a groan. Hermione thought it was a rather dramatic reaction to what she presumed to be normal traffic.

Twenty minutes later, she understood.

There was an accident somewhere further ahead on the freeway, and it had brought traffic down to an unbearable crawl. In between muttering under her breath about L.A., Angela assured them that normally traffic wasn’t this bad and that the accident “just makes things stupid.” As Hermione looked out at all the Muggles in their cars, some irritated but most exhausted, she felt for them. She really did take for granted her ability to teleport almost wherever she pleased; if this was normal life for Muggles—and she was quite sure it was—then if it got out that there was an entire society of people who had the ability to teleport and _not be in traffic jams_...Well, it’d certainly be another thing for the Muggles to be enraged about.

“Remind me again why we’re in this bloody car?” Severus snapped after another thirty minutes in stop-and-go traffic had passed. The bite in his voice caught a dozing Hermione off guard, and she glanced up at him to find him looking irate and vaguely unwell with a hand pressed to his stomach.

Was Severus Snape...carsick?

“Are you all right, Severus?” Hermione murmured, placing a hand on his thigh.

“This was a terrible idea,” he said through his clenched teeth.

“You carsick, Severus?” asked Danny, twisting around in his seat in concern. “Sorry man, I didn’t know…”

The venom in Severus’s eyes might have actually physically pained Danny.

In the late hours of the previous night, they had spent a good couple of hours going over their options, and in all scenarios, limiting their use of magical methods of transport in unfamiliar territory was their best bet to remain unseen. Danny was reluctant to Apparate due to the openness of the Wizarding District Apparition point, and he didn’t know the surrounding area well enough to Apparate them to a less conspicuous spot. Taking a car to L.A. had made the most sense because Angela knew how to get to the Fashion District without a map, and that Danny was reasonably certain that there would be signs for the Wizarding District.

But who knew that Severus Snape, an incredibly powerful wizard capable of actual _flight_ , got carsick?

“Is there anything we can do to uh—magic ourselves out of this? You know, without being too obvious,” Angela asked, briefly glancing over her shoulder at Severus, who had clenched his eyes shut again.

“There are charms that the Ministry uses on their cars to let them squeeze through traffic—I’ve looked into them. The problem,” said Hermione, glancing out the windows at the sea of cars around them, “is that we’ve quite the audience.”

“Are you seriously considering drawing attention to ourselves just because I’m carsick?” Severus asked indignantly. “I’ve survived two wars, I can survive a _car_.”

His words didn’t carry much weight now that he was hunched forward with his forehead pressed against the front passenger seat headrest.

“Maybe a snack would help? We didn’t eat anything this morning,” Angela said helpfully. “I thought I saw some crackers in Danny’s bags. Crackers help when I get motion sick.”

That was a good idea—Hermione had noticed the crackers as well. Immediately, she began rummaging around in the leather bag for them in spite of Severus’s loud insistence that a car ride was not going to kill him. She pulled the box of saltine crackers out triumphantly when she found them, and gently pat Severus’s shoulder.

“Have some crackers, Severus.”

“I don’t need any crackers,” he snapped.

 _He must really feel sick if he’s being this stubborn_ , Hermione thought, inwardly laughing. It was almost like the old Professor Snape was here, except with a tummy ache.

Hermione took a cracker and, after a moment’s hesitation, leaned in to press it to his lips. “Have a cracker, Severus,” she said, struggling to stifle a smile. She really shouldn’t be so amused at his pain but she never thought her life story was going to include comforting a carsick Severus Snape in L.A. traffic.

“Come on, Severus, it will help,” she insisted when he made no move to eat it. She pressed the cracker to his lips again.

Slowly, and without turning to look at her or even opening his eyes, he took a small bite from the cracker.

“You’re going to have to eat more than that,” Hermione said disapprovingly. Severus made a sort of grunting sound of irritation before slowly eating the rest of the cracker from her fingers, still hunched over with his eyes clenched shut. Everyone has their breaking points, she supposed, and being a fugitive hunted by rogue Aurors in addition to being carsick in terrible traffic was definitely a straw-that-broke-the-camel’s-back sort of situation.

Severus made no move to look at her when she pressed another cracker to his face, though he obediently took it in his mouth.

“I never want to ride in a car ever again,” he grumbled through his teeth.

* * *

It had taken them nearly an hour and a half to go twenty miles.

As their poor luck would have it, the accident that caused the traffic jam in the first place had involved at least three cars, one of which was a pickup truck that somehow managed to mount the center divider and another of which was a sedan with a crumpled bonnet leaking smoke that suggested an active fire underneath. All in all, nobody on that freeway was having a good day, least of all the people involved in the accident.

But finally, they were safely parked in the car park underneath the California Market Center, with each of them Disillusioned whilst they planned their next move.

“Okay, I’ve definitely seen signs for this building in the Wizarding District, so the entrance must be here somewhere,” said Danny—or rather, the faintly distorted space where Danny’s voice was coming from. Hermione could hear Angela’s soft murmurs of awe about how cool the Disillusionment Charm was.

“But you don’t know where,” Severus said flatly. He was still out of sorts from the car ride; the crackers had helped, but Hermione knew that nothing short of a potion could fully ease the nausea. She put an invisible hand on his invisible thigh, and smiled when his invisible fingers wrapped around her own.

“No. But!” Danny said, and though Hermione couldn’t see him, she was sure he had that roguish grin on his face. “The Wizarding District is a pretty busy place. I’m sure we’ll be able to find someone to follow in.”

The invisible space that was Severus made a small snorting sound.

“Let’s go, then. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Wait!” Hermione said when a small realization struck her. “It’s hard to see each other. Danny, you be the leader, everyone else hold on so we don’t get separated.”

“Excellent idea,” said Severus. “I’ll take the rear.”

If they hadn’t been Disillusioned, they would have made a hilarious scene. They moved through the car park in a line, each person clutching the hem of the shirt of the person before them as they slowly made their way up towards ground level like an invisible, clumsy caterpillar.

They were just reaching the top of the ramp to the second level when Hermione caught sight of a man leaving his car and heading down the car park stairwell.

Odd.

“Danny, did you see that man?” Hermione whispered, pulling on his shirt. “He went _down_.”

“Oh! Yeah, I saw him. Let’s go, let’s go!” came Danny’s hurried whisper.

She felt Danny’s shirt pulling away from her so she lurched forward to keep her grip on it. They moved as fast as they could without making too much noise, and reached the stairwell just in time to watch their mark enter a door at the bottom of the stairwell. “ _Quick, bottom floor,_ ” Danny hissed. It was difficult to rush down the stairs with their bodies Disillusioned: Hermione nearly twisted her ankle after her foot slipped off the edge of a step, while Danny tripped over himself at the next level landing and Angela nearly tumbled down after missing a stair.

When they reached the bottom, Hermione realized she hadn’t heard Severus following and didn’t see his distorted empty space among them at the foot of the stairwell. But before she could open her mouth to whisper his name, she caught sight of a visual ripple hopping over the stair banisters toward them, and found herself getting pushed toward the shadows underneath the stairs.

“ _Hide, hide!_ ” came Severus’s voice, and Hermione felt Danny and Angela get pushed into her just as she heard a whispered _muffliato_.

“What’s wrong, Severus?” Hermione asked, her voice a whisper. No human should be able to hear her but she couldn’t help it.

“Sinclair is coming,” he muttered.

Hermione’s blood ran cold. What in the world was he doing here?

“Sinclair? _Are you kidding me?_ ” Danny sputtered, but there was no time for him to say more before the sounds of footsteps were upon them.

And indeed, Sinclair emerged from the stairwell and made for the door to the bottom level, wholly unaware of the four Disillusioned escapees hiding underneath the stairs. He looked almost _bored_ , there was no way he had appeared here to capture them.

When Sinclair had made his way through the door, they sat with bated breath in the shadows of the stairs, waiting to see if he would reappear and attack them. But after what felt like an eternity, Hermione felt Severus make a pointing movement with his wand, then let out a sigh of relief.

“He’s gone,” he said, dispelling the Muffliato with a wave of his wand.

“It didn’t look like he was here for us,” Hermione said with a frown that no one could see.

“No, but we can use this to our advantage,” said Severus, the slightest hint of a laugh in his voice. “He didn’t look to be in a hurry, we can trail him.”

If he was thinking what she thought he was thinking, then they might soon have a way of solving their Needing to Appear Somewhere Else problem.

But first they’d need to solve this Wizarding District Entrance problem, as it turned out the door for the bottom parking level led not to another parking level, but to a dirty, empty, but positively creepy hallway.

The lights hanging from the ceiling flickered ominously, and a single door marked “BOILER ROOM” stood on the wall at the end of the hall. The hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck stood on end, and she had to fight the urge to turn right around and leave.

“Oh. Well then,” said Danny. He didn’t sound pleased at all.

“Ahh, I—should we really be here?” Angela said weakly. “It—it doesn’t really look like we should be here.”

“I suppose you don’t need repelling enchantments when _atmosphere_ is enough to keep people away,” said Severus, his voice dripping with amusement. “Scared, Danny?”

“H-hah, yeah right!” Danny laughed. “A-anyways, let’s not waste any time!”

Hermione could see Danny’s shape hurrying to the end of the hallway, and felt Severus’s hand nudge her forward. “You and Miss Villar go ahead. I’ll make sure there aren’t any more surprises.”

As she walked forward, an eerie sound no louder than a whisper filled her ears—it sounded like a voice trailing directly behind her no matter the direction of her head, its word indistinguishable. Danny already had the door open, and she found herself hurrying toward it to get away from the voice. Her brain insisted it was just a scare tactic to keep Muggles away and that she’d endured worse horrors during the war, but her thundering heart said that this was a very bad hallway, a very bad one—

“Jesus Christ, what the hell was that?” Angela’s shape breathed when they had slipped through the door into the small room. It was definitely no boiler room—it was empty apart from a dirty cleaning cart in the corner and old trash piled up beside it, and certainly wouldn’t have fit any mechanical equipment to speak of.

“I guess this is why they say that this entrance sucks,” said Danny, laughing in relief. “I think this is the old one.”

“And what sorts of voices whisper at you at the new one?” Hermione asked wryly.

“Siren ones trying to get you to spend all your money,” he replied. She let out a snort of amusement; it was clear he was joking, but Hermione wouldn’t put it past wizards to do it, if they haven’t done already.

The door to the creepy hallway shut, and Hermione saw Severus’s shape draw close to her. “All clear. How do we get into the Wizarding District?” Severus asked.

“I think we tap this bottom bolt on the wall, it’s like the Union Station entrance,” Danny said. There was a rusty plate on the wall next to the door, with two rusty bolts protruding from it, one above the other like elevator buttons.

He tapped it with the tip of his wand. There was a bright, elevator-like _ding_ , and door melted away.

Hermione had expected an underground marketplace, and instead found that they were stepping out into a sort of deserted back alley. But a small distance away stood an open-air plaza under a bright, cloudless sky—enchanted, surely, as Danny had mentioned that the Wizarding District was underneath the Fashion District. The plaza looked to be a hub, with a large, round fountain surrounded by people lounging at tables and on benches. Small children—some in bathing suits and others in drenched street clothing—played in an area off to the side, where streams of water rose out of the ground and twisted about in midair for them to run through. Muggle fashion seemed to be quite popular in L.A., with an even split between people wearing the usual robes and people in Muggle clothing. It was a departure from the Diagon Alley that Hermione knew; there it was crowded and noisy and had a general feeling of _old_ both architecturally and culturally, but here there was so much more space and an interesting mix of old and new styles.

“Come this way,” came Severus’s voice, and Hermione felt a nudge toward a nook to their right, where they wouldn’t be in view of the plaza. “Lift the Disillusionment Charms.”

A moment later, they were back to their visible selves. It wouldn’t have been a good idea to attempt to navigate the brightly-lit Wizarding District while Disillusioned; while they had done a passable job at Disillusioning themselves, they weren’t quite invisible and it would have been even more apparent in the sunlight. Danny conjured two pairs of sunglasses—a sort of bug-eyed pair that he handed to Angela, and aviator sunglasses, which he handed to Hermione.

“Here, I think he knows your face best. Probably,” said Danny.

“How do I look?” Hermione put the sunglasses on and turned to Severus, giving him a coy smile.

“You look rad,” he said solemnly. She and Danny let out choked laughs, while Angela looked as though he’d slapped her. In spite of the fact that they were somewhere in the vicinity of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to murder them (and hasn’t, in fact), it was good to see that Severus was recovering nicely from the carsickness ordeal.

“Now to find Sinclair…” Danny muttered, glancing around the corner towards the plaza.

“If he took this entrance, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to be noticed,” said Hermione, crossing her arms thoughtfully. “Danny, what sorts of stores are around here?”

“Hmm. I think this section has some robe shops, sport store, uhh...oh, there’s the old market, people go there when they need to get random things that are hard to find anywhere else.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “What sorts of ‘random things’ do you mean?” he asked.

“I dunno, like there’s an old wand shop, specialty tools, spices and stuff, um...Oh! Apothecary—a really old one!”

Realization dawned on Hermione, and from the looks on Severus’s and Danny’s faces, it had on them as well. If Mortin’s people were making use of her research—her very _potions-based_ research—then it would make sense for Sinclair to make a trip to an apothecary. And though Hermione loathed the fact that there was no magical equivalent of online shopping because it made her day job that much more of a hassle, in this moment she silently thanked the gods for the wizarding world’s steadfast resistance to change.

“We should go there, it’s worth taking a look,” said Hermione.

“What do you wanna do if we find him?” Danny asked with an uncharacteristic frown. “We can’t duke it out here, there’s too many civilians.”

“We tail him until it’s safe to hide him somewhere. Then I have a plan,” said Severus, a dark glint in his eyes. A chill ran down Hermione’s spine at his words.

“Okay. I’ll take the lead into the market,” said Danny with a nod. “It’s always cramped and crowded in there, so it should be easy enough to blend in. Don’t follow me too closely. Hermione, you and Angie go together, pretend like you’re friends.” He gave Angela an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Hermione won’t let anything happen to you, she’s amazing. Severus, you good?”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

It wasn’t far to the market area, which turned out to be one of the old-style buildings Hermione had seen when they arrived. Hermione and Angela walked leisurely after Danny, with Severus somewhere behind them—she didn’t want to look back to check. None of the passersby paid them any attention, but Hermione scanned the area carefully in case Sinclair or any of his cronies were nearby. The interior or the market was, true to Danny’s word, quite crowded, with a multitude of people doing their shopping at small stores that might be better described as stalls. Food stalls intermingled with the stores, some with customers having breakfast at the countertops, while others weren’t yet open for the day. Danny walked some thirty feet before them, occasionally stopping to examine a shop’s wares before continuing on.

He took them on a meandering route to the apothecary, which was towards the back of the market where there were fewer people and more specialized shops. He eventually stopped just out of view of the apothecary’s storefront window, and leaned over slightly to look inside; almost immediately, he looked away and became very interested in the display of specialty cauldrons at the store adjacent to it. Hermione gave a gentle tug on Angela’s bag strap and stopped to take a look at the lovely quills at the shop directly to their right. Danny glanced up to fix her with a meaningful look, his eyes darting from her to the store behind him before he went back to examining the cauldrons.

Severus nearly startled her when he brushed his knuckles along her arm, giving her an expectant, sidelong glance as he passed. “Angela, I’m going in. Wait here, turn around if he comes out,” Hermione whispered. Danny looked up in muted surprise as they passed, but Severus gave the slightest shake of his head and made a small “stay” motion with his hand.

He stopped just outside the apothecary window, leaning in to peer into it before giving Hermione a look over his shoulder and tipping his head toward the door. She understood immediately; he made to enter the apothecary and she followed casually behind.

Sinclair was by the register, speaking to an annoyed shopkeeper with his back towards them. The tall shelves packed tightly into the store offered them good cover, and they managed to slip into a narrow aisle without the shopkeeper noticing them. They inched closer to the pair in an effort to catch their conversation—which didn’t sound like a particularly happy one.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting from me, buddy,” said the shopkeeper in irritation. “I don’t have any, and I can’t get any.”

“Surely you could find someone to order it from!” retorted Sinclair. The shopkeeper made a scoffing sound.

“Look. I tried after you came by last week, I’m not shitting you. Called up my buddy in Boston, asked him if he could find me some but he can’t. There’s a hold on clearbell right now, I can’t legally buy _or_ sell any, even if I had it.”

It felt as though an electric shock went across Hermione’s skin.

“What? When did that happen?” Sinclair asked in dismay.

“Literally just the other day. Heard about some terrorist attacks over in England or something—you sound like you’re from there, didn’t you know? Guess clearbell was involved somehow. Not surprised, honestly, clearbell’s not a joke.”

“Hold or not, I need it. I’ve a heavy coin pouch and I’m willing to lighten it.”

There was the jingle of a handful of coins being placed on the counter.

The shopkeeper was silent for a moment, before letting out a small laugh. “Heh. This isn’t that kind of place, not anymore. Try Bianchi’s in New York City. You didn’t hear it from me, though.”

“Of course. Thanks.”

As Sinclair turned to leave, Hermione and Severus silently moved toward the door, waiting for the moment he left the shop so they could slip out after him. He crossed the threshold and they made their move to follow, when the shopkeeper’s voice called out, “ _Hey!_ How long were you two there?”

Severus and Hermione both moved at the same time—she spun around, pointing her wand at the shopkeeper and crying, “ _Confundo!_ ” just as Severus jabbed his wand at Sinclair, who had whirled around at the sound of the shopkeeper’s voice. His eyes met her gaze as Hermione chanced a look over her shoulder; they widened in realization but suddenly went oddly blank, and the wand hand that he’d started to raise slowly fell back to his side.

“We just got here but we didn’t find what we needed. Thanks though,” Hermione told the shopkeeper, who was dazed and confused but nodded nonetheless. Severus had already ushered Sinclair out the door, and Hermione followed quickly behind.

“Imperius Curse,” Severus muttered when Hermione fell in step with him. “Quickly, find a safe place. He’s had training—I need to concentrate.”

Danny had been watching from the cauldron shop, and gave her an urgent, questioning look when she and Severus approached with Sinclair in tow. “Imperius,” she whispered. “We need to find somewhere safe. Where?”

“Imperius? Shit. Okay. Cleaning supplies near bathrooms. This way,” Danny said, beckoning Angela to follow and immediately taking off toward the very back of the market.

It was a struggle to look casual as they powerwalked through the market; there weren’t as many people in the back areas, but there were still enough to warrant care. Sinclair was coming along easily enough, though he had a placid, almost dazed expression on his face. “ _Danny, where are we going?_ ” Hermione hissed.

“Almost—it’s right up there,” he said, looking up toward a large “Restrooms” sign. He veered into the small hallway and spent a moment muttering at the door across from the restrooms, before he pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Get in, get in!”

Hermione stepped aside to let Sinclair and Severus through first before jumping in herself with Angela at her heels and Danny pulling the door shut behind them. She managed to cast _muffliato_ on the tiny storage room just as Severus pushed Sinclair against a shelf of cleaning potions with a loud _THUD_ , and with a flick of his wand he lifted the Imperius Curse. He had barely a moment to come to his senses before Severus uttered, “ _Legilimens!”_

The silence in the cleaning supplies closet was sudden and disquieting. Hermione, Danny, and Angela—the three of them crammed as close to the door as possible so as to offer Severus the space he needed—didn’t dare so much as breathe while he was busy sifting through Sinclair’s mind. His foray into Sinclair’s thoughts lasted but a half minute; Sinclair’s eyes refocused as he was released from the spell, but again he hadn’t the time to gather his wits before Severus made his next move.

“ _Confundo!_ ”

Sinclair’s face went blank, his eyes glossy. Severus was nose-to-nose with him now, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You will not notice that your Disney security badge is missing. You will forget that I took it from you. You will think that you have had it in your pocket all this time,” Severus muttered, reaching into Sinclair’s robe without breaking eye contact and pulling something small from an inside pocket. “Tomorrow morning you will go to New York City to look for clearbell. In the evening, you will contact Conrad and ask about the status of Granger and the wildcards. You will ask about email, to see if there has been any activity. You will forget that I have suggested this to you, and you will present it as your own idea.”

Severus’s breathing was labored now. “You will forget that I, Granger, Takahashi, and Villar were here. You will forget that you were Imperiused. You will forget that I used Legilimency. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” said Sinclar slowly.

“You have come this way to use the toilet. You will forget that you were in this supply closet. Do you—do you understand?”

“I understand.”

Hermione saw where this was going, and she slowly put her hand on the doorknob. Danny held his wand at the ready, pointed directly at Sinclair.

“Good,” said Severus.

He broke eye contact—immediately Hermione pulled the door open just enough to allow Severus and Danny to push Sinclair through it, with Danny quickly steadying him on his feet before withdrawing back into the closet. Hermione snapped the door shut and locked it as Severus fell to his knees, the fake glasses clattering to the floor and his shoulders heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. She knelt down and gently put an arm around his shoulder, while Danny put an ear to the door to listen for Sinclair.

“Haven’t needed to do that—not since—not since —” Severus panted. Hermione pulled his head into the crook of her neck and gently caressed his head.

“Shhh, you were wonderful,” she whispered into his hair as he leaned into her.

“He went into the bathroom,” Danny whispered. “We should wait here a while, but I think we’re in the clear.”

Hermione allowed Severus time to regain his composure in silence. It was extraordinarily difficult to Confund someone so badly that they can be told to forget, let alone a full-fledged Auror who had completed all manner of defensive training. That Severus could Confund Sinclair even now, years out of the war...Clearly time had not dulled his wartime skills, not in the least.

“What did you see when you looked in his mind?” Hermione asked once Severus’s breathing slowed.

“Disney badge, Conrad gave it to him,” Severus said wearily, holding up the badge he’d taken from Sinclair’s robes. It was a round metal pin slightly larger than a Galleon, engraved with a simple Mickey Mouse head and the words “DISNEYLAND MAGICAL SECURITY” above it, and “LEVEL 2 CLEARANCE” below.

“Conrad called us ‘Granger and the wildcards,’” he continued in amusement. “Evidently the lot of us are just wildcards compared to you. No appreciation for a magnificent wizard like myself. It’s tragic.” Hermione let out a snort of amusement as Danny sniggered in the corner.

“‘Granger and the Wildcards’ is a fantastic name for a band, though,” she said, grinning.

“What was the deal with the email, though? What does that have to do with anything?” asked Danny. “Also: agreed on the band name. I’ll play electric ukulele.”

Severus looked up to a pale Angela. “Miss Villar, you need to do...email things,” said Severus. “Make it sound like we are somewhere else. France, perhaps. Hermione, does Potter have email?”

“He does, although he doesn’t use it much, if at all.”

“Can you email Potter, Miss Villar?”

“Y-yes,” Angela replied hesitantly, but she fell silent, her eyes staring off into the distance—she appeared to be thinking hard.

“What’s wrong?” Severus asked.

“It—that won’t be good enough,” said Angela nervously. “We don’t know how much access they have, they might be able to trace our location...” She fell silent again, but it was obvious she was thinking and so they allowed her the silence. Soon her eyes widened slightly in some sort of revelation.

“I can do it with a VPN. If they know what they’re doing, it won’t trick them, but it’ll hide our current location,” said Angela, crossing her arms thoughtfully. “Email is easy, that can be done fast, like twenty or thirty minutes. I have another idea that would be even better, but I’ll need more time.”

“What’s the idea?” asked Danny.

“I could set up something to spoof caller ID. It’s not a sure thing, though, and I’d need time.” She tilted her head from side to side as she considered her plan. “I’d need to work on it overnight. And I’d need internet for it the whole time…” she added, her face falling slightly.

“What does spoofing caller ID get us?” Severus asked. “Will it be worth it?”

“Well, we could make a phone call and make our phone number look like someone else’s,” Angela explained. She looked to Hermione. “Do you have a phone? I—uh—do magic people have phones?”

Hermione nodded. “I have a landline, yes. I’m not sure the state of it right now, I imagine they may be monitoring it.”

“It doesn’t matter if they are, because we’re only going to fake your phone number. That way, we call someone, and it looks like your phone is calling.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in comprehension. If it worked, Angela’s idea could distract Mortin’s people into thinking they were in London, with the added bonus of testing just how deeply into Muggle technology Mortin was going into order to find them.

“How confident are you that you can get this working?” Hermione asked. Angela’s eyes darted about, her brow furrowed—Hermione could almost hear the gears turning in her head. After a few moments, Angela exhaled slowly and squared her shoulders.

In the short, short time that Hermione knew her, Angela had always come off as quite unsure of herself; but here, now, she stood firmly with a purposeful glint in her eye.

“It might not work, if the software turns out to be too finicky or if we can’t get internet. I—we should only try caller ID if you think we can spare a night,” Angela said resolutely. “But we definitely do the email thing after you find whatever you need in that library.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me. I trust you,” said Danny. He looked to Hermione, then Severus. “What do you guys think?”

“I think it’s worth a try,” Hermione said with an approving nod.

“As do I.”

Hermione wasn’t sure that a cleaning supplies room was the most optimal place to be formulating plans, but she felt that now, surrounded by cleaning potions and grungy mops but most importantly these three people whom she’d never expected to be on the run with, the scales were finally— _finally_ —tipping in their favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW okay life punched me in the face for like six months. Work just got super crazy because we had a release and I did my best to write but it wasn't happening. Anywho! I managed to finish this and it's maybe probably sort of janky but I hope y'all enjoy it anyways.
> 
> As always, thank you so so much to any returning readers. It really means a lot to me that you guys keep coming back.


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